Dancing in the Dark
by chellethebelle
Summary: Singer, Elena Gilbert gets signed to the most prestigious record label in the world. She thinks it's her big break until she meets her producer, the cold and stoic Damon Salvatore.
1. Prologue

**Here is my new story!**

**Elena is a talented musician and she gets signed to the most prestigious record label in the world. Turns out singer/superstar Damon Salvatore is her producer. **

**Oh yes, they will clash.**

**Thanks to Jenn aka elvishgrrl for beta-ing like a boss. And for all of you who helped me brainstorm titles and pre-read this to tell me if you liked it, thank you!**

* * *

"Are you sure I'm ready for this?" I squirm in the passenger seat of my aunt's sedan. We are sitting outside Saltzman Records, having just barely gotten into Nashville today.

"You know we wouldn't be here if you weren't ready for this," my Aunt Jenna says softly and places a comforting hand on my knee.

My Aunt Jenna is amazing. Neither of my parents could get the time off to drive with me down to Nashville for my meeting with Saltzman Records. Not that they aren't excited, because they are ecstatic. They are the reason I love music in the first place.

I fell in love with country music at a young age. My father and mother listened to it, played it, and lived it all my life. I started guitar and piano lessons at the age of five and fell in love with the music as well. As I got older, my love for music expanded into almost ever genre.

It also doesn't hurt that I am one hell of a singer.

I saved my money all through high school and college to record an album. It didn't go platinum, it didn't win any awards, but my songs got played on local radio and caught the attention of Alaric Saltzman, owner of Saltzman Records. The same studio that produces some of the biggest names in country music to date. Every one of his musicians has won a Grammy and various other awards. It could be the biggest break of my life. So I packed up a few things and drove down to Nashville to meet with Alaric himself.

It was a grueling ten-hour drive, but we finally made it. However, now that I am faced with the reality of the situation, my nerves are hitting me hard. I rarely get nervous, not even when I am on stage. It is the most natural place for me to be.

I take a steadying breath and push myself out of the car.

"You can do this," Jenna says, as she rounds the other side of the car to join me.

I say nothing, but simply nod my head and walk to the front doors.

The interior is impressive. The hardwood floors compliment the beige walls. Well, the parts of the wall I can see since they are covered in platinum records, plaques, shelves full of awards, and pictures of all the stars the studio has made. I reluctantly tear my gaze from the walls and approach the front desk.

"Hi, I'm Elena Gilbert. I'm here to see Mr. Saltzman," I say tentatively. The blonde behind the desk gives me a warm smile and tells me that he will be with me momentarily and to have a seat. I flip my long brown hair over my shoulder and turn back to the large lobby.

Feeling too pent up to sit any longer, I stroll around the room, closely examining the plaques and photos on the wall. My eyes catch the framed cover of Rolling Stone and I smile at the familiar issue. I own it and I know exactly where it sits in my room at home in Mystic Falls, Virginia. I remember getting it in the mail and screaming over how good-looking he is. It was right before he stopped making music, which was a sad day for me and the country music community. Actually, it was a sad day for the entire music community.

I gaze up at his picture and admire the sharp angle of his jaw, the way his cocky smirk pulls up the side of his cheek, his sculpted chest that he's proudly baring and his captivating blue eyes.

"Miss Gilbert? Alaric will see you now," the receptionist says and I reluctantly tear my gaze from the man in the photo. I give Jenna a nervous smile before I walk through the door leading to Alaric's office.

His office is warm and comfortable. It looks like a history teacher's office. The walls are lined with bookshelves piled to the brim with books and other random baubles. In the center of the room, Alaric sits behind his modest desk and types away on his MacBook. The door shuts quietly behind me, causing him to look up at me.

"Elena! Welcome!" he says with a large smile. He is a sandy-haired man with very gentle features and warm brown eyes.

"Hi, Mr. Saltzman, thank you so much for this opportunity," I say shyly, totally star-struck by the man in front of me that holds my dreams in his hands.

"Please, call me Alaric, or Ric, even," Alaric says, taking my hand in his and shaking it firmly. "Sit, sit!" he says animatedly, gesturing to a large armchair across from his desk.

"Thank you," I say graciously.

"How was the drive down?" he asks with a broad smile.

"It's a really beautiful drive," I respond.

"Good, good. Well, let's get down to the nitty gritty," he says seriously. My heart starts pounding immediately. This is it - this is my future that hangs in the balance.

"I didn't call you here to just discuss your music and the possibility of signing you. You are something special and I want to sign you. Today," Ric explains.

My world stops. Wait, what?

"You want to sign me?" I ask in complete shock.

"Elena, have you listened to your album?" Ric asks with a smile. "You are amazing and I would be an idiot not to sign you."

Holy shit.

"Wow," I breathe.

"Now," he says, reaching into a drawer and sliding a packet across the desk to me, "I have a contract here for you to read over. I want you to record here. I want you to be the new face of Saltzman Records." Alaric explains everything to me carefully, going through every line of the contract and making sure I agree with everything and compromising on the things I am uncomfortable with.

"You are choosing my producer?" I ask when I read one of the last lines of the contract.

"I know your music, Elena, and I have a producer already in mind for you. Now, this is only for the first album, after that you will also have a say in who produces you, but I have a hunch that you will work well together," Ric explains.

"When can I meet them?" I ask timidly.

"Oh!" His eyebrows shoot up comically. "Yes! I totally forgot." He leans over to his intercom and presses a single button. "Dana, send him in."

Not a minute later, the door opens and I turn to see my new producer. When I lay eyes on the man that walks through the door, I almost fall over.

Damon Salvatore is my producer. The Damon Salvatore.

Holy shit.

Damon Salvatore, the record holder for most Grammy's, CTM's, ACM's, and all other awards possible for any musician. He is country music. He is music. He is my idol.

Fuck me. He's even more gorgeous in person. I gulp.

"Elena, meet Damon Salvatore. Damon, meet your new artist, Elena Gilbert," Alaric introduces us with an elated flourish.

"Hi," I breathe as I rise from my chair to shake Damon's hand.

But I am stunned into silence when he turns his ice-cold gaze on me. A fierce shudder runs down my spine when I see the utter hatred lurking in their depths.

Damon Salvatore is my producer and he already hates me.

Holy shit.

* * *

**Follow me on twitter: rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love!**


	2. Cowboy Casanova

**I am absolutely blown away by the response to the first chapter. Holy Moses! **

**From here on out, I'm going to be exercising my creative liberties. All of the songs that show up in the story are NOT mine. I'm only borrowing them for a bit. The glory of fiction is that I can just pretend that Elena actually wrote Tim McGraw by Taylor Swift. So that will stand from here on out. The music is the basis of the whole story anyway.**

**Thanks again to Jenn, elvishgrrl, who beta'ed this for me. And who got very excited about it, which only made me more excited.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"So, Elena," he caresses my name like silk. "Should we see if you are even worth investing time into?"

I flush immediately. Then flush more because I can feel how red my cheeks are. Damn it.

I catch Alaric shooting him a death glare before sighing loudly and giving him an 'if you must' gesture.

He crosses the room and picks up a guitar before shoving it into my hands. He flops into a nearby armchair and crosses his ankle over his knee, waiting.

I perch tentatively on the edge of my chair and produce an ever-present pick from my pocket. For the first time in my life, my hands are shaking. This blue-eyed man's gaze is freaking me the fuck out.

Breathe, Elena.

Sure enough, my erratic heartbeat calms and it's just this guitar and me. I can do this. This is easy.

I strum the opening chord of my favorite song I've written to date, and it soothes my frantic nerves. The world falls away and all that is left is this guitar, the music and me. Music that I'm making.

I open my mouth and start to sing,

"_He said the way my blue eyes shined_

_Put those Georgia stars to shame that night_

_I said: 'That's a lie.'_

_Just a boy in a Chevy truck_

_That had a tendency of gettin' stuck_

_On backroads at night_

_And I was right there beside him all summer long_

_And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone_"

I close my eyes and allow myself to stroll down memory lane to my high school boyfriend, the one I thought I loved, and the one that broke my heart when he left for college.

"_When you think Tim McGraw_

_I hope you think my favorite song_

_The one we danced to all night long_

_The moon like a spotlight on the lake_

_When you think happiness_

_I hope you think that little black dress_

_Think of my head on your chest_

_And my old faded blue jeans_

_When you think Tim McGraw_

_I hope you think of me._"

My voice and the music swirl around me and cocoon me in their protective embrace. I can feel adrenaline surging through me as I sing; this is one of my best performances, if I do say so myself.

I finish on a gorgeous note, with just enough vibrato and revel in the silence in the room. I look up to see Alaric with a ridiculous grin on his face; he is absolutely ecstatic.

I dare a glance at Damon and his face is totally unreadable. However, he doesn't look very pleased.

"Wow, Elena," Ric says, that grin still on his face. Then he turns to Damon, "What did you think?"

He shrugs noncommittally. "It's not very personal."

I gape at him.

"What do you mean it's not personal? I wrote it about a boyfriend I had in high school," I respond, trying my hardest not to snap at him, vaguely remembering that he has more control over my career than I do.

"I think you need to dig deeper when it comes to your song writing," he says. "And we'll need to get you a vocal coach."

I blanch. Did he really just say that? Fuck, I can feel the blood returning to my cheeks.

"Damon," Ric scolds.

"What?" He throws his hands up in mock innocence. "If I'm going to produce her, she does as I say and I say she needs a vocal coach and an intense writing session with yours truly."

His harsh tone chills me to the core. How can someone be so crass?

"We'll start tomorrow," he says, pinning me under his harsh glare once more before pushing himself out of the armchair and swiftly exiting the office.

"I promise he knows what he's doing," Alaric says, obviously trying to placate me. "He's the best in the business."

I give him a skeptical nod, but say nothing.

"How about we talk about where you'll be living?" Alaric says loudly, obviously trying to break the heavy tension in the room.

"Ok," I nod, leaning the guitar against my chair.

As it turns out, Saltzman Records will also pay for my apartment in Nashville while I record my album.

"And tomorrow we have a press conference where you will sign the contract," Alaric sighs and rolls his eyes. "I hate doing shit like that, but it's the best way to get your name out there before your album even hits."

"A press conference?" I clarify. I've never dealt with press before. Shit. Now I'm already nervous.

"We'll keep it low key, I promise. But it is a good way to build your fan-base. They eat this shit up," he says simply with a noncommittal shrug.

His laid back attitude is probably my favorite thing about him so far. I can already tell we'll get along great. However, I can't say the same for Damon and I.

I'm still not sure what it is about me that he doesn't like. We've only known each other a whole ten minutes - tops. The thought infuriates me. I'm a likable person, damn it! I just don't understand it. And he said my song wasn't personal! Screw him.

"... you will be meeting your publicist tomorrow," Alaric is still talking. I push all thoughts of Damon to the back of my mind and listen. "Her name is Bonnie Bennett. She's the best of the best."

* * *

After a lot of screaming and jumping and crying with Jenna and introducing her to Alaric, who looks totally smitten with her, we finally check into our hotel. I call my parents and there is more screaming and crying. They sound so proud. Their support means the world.

I'm finally feeling like I'm doing what I set out to do so many years ago, but now that I stand, facing my new "team", I'm petrified.

Bonnie is a quiet storm; she's kind, but efficient and I immediately warm to her. Her heart-shaped face is open and inviting, and she has caramel skin and honeyed eyes. She and I will get along great. I can't help but think that Alaric really knows what he's doing with me.

We're at a hotel in Nashville, I guess they wanted a bigger venue than the studio conference room. Bonnie is explaining to me what to expect. A lot of photos, questions, and smiling is what I capture from her little lecture. She is probably telling me something important, but I'm way too pent up to really listen.

Then Caroline Forbes, my makeup artist/hair dresser/stylist, walks in. She's a fierce flurry of blonde hair and blue eyes. She examines me like I'm some sort of sick lab experiment. Clicking her tongue in dissatisfaction here, writing a note there, and muttering to herself about hemlines all the while. She lifts both of my arms out to my side and stares at my torso, including my breasts. I want desperately to hide from this woman, but to my relief, she instructs me to turn. I gratefully oblige until she tells me to turn once more.

I watch her scrutinize me for several long seconds before her face breaks out into a wide, blinding smile. "I have a feeling you will be my favorite client." What? I was not expecting that to come out of her mouth. I find that I can't help but return her smile - it's infectious.

I sit in the makeup chair, which is unbelievably comfortable. Then I realize it's comfortable because I'll be here for a while.

Caroline combs through my hair, calling out wardrobe orders to her assistant that I hadn't noticed before, who gives a slight nod and gets to work.

After two hours, I learn that Caroline is an avid gossiper. She knows everything about everyone and I make a mental note to never tell her anything I want to keep quiet. I learn that Bonnie is the reason she got this job. And despite her earlier words that I'd be her favorite client, I learn that is because I'm her first and only client.

I learn more about Damon than I ever expected. Apparently he's a notorious lady-killer. That he has a new woman in his bed every night. I've learned that Damon was dating the A-list actress, Katherine Pierce - "Bitch," says Caroline - and apparently they had a messy break up. A really, really messy break up. So messy, in fact, that he quit music all together and has not performed nor recorded since. Rumor has it that Damon spent almost a year in and out of rehab facilities after said break up.

"Take it from me, once he gets his digs in you, he never lets go. He is like a drug, I swear," Caroline says almost wistfully and I wonder if he had his digs in her as well. As she talks, a melody starts to play in my mind and I feel the familiar twitch of inspiration. I pull out my ever-present songbook and flip to a new page. Yes, this will be good. I smile to myself as I let the lyrics flow out my fingertips and let Caroline have her way with me.

All my worries about her abilities are squashed as I stare at myself in the full sized mirror. She's a fucking magician. My hair falls around my shoulders in soft, shiny waves, my makeup is just heavy enough to look good in photos. Caroline worked her magic with the light brown smokey eye, as she called it. Well, now I know I love the light brown smokey eye. She painted my lips in a soft pink that sets off my blush perfectly.

She has me dressed in a blue and white summer dress with nude peep toes. I look like a million bucks. Not over dressed, not underdressed, I'm just perfect. And for not being a girl who ever wears dresses, ever, I'm totally comfortable. Yep, Caroline is a magician.

I don't have much time to stare and admire Caroline's handiwork because Bonnie is sweeping in with her kind smile and ushering me down a long hall. I have a pack of people following me and for the first time, the weight of what I am doing is not lost on me. My life will never be the same after this. I will be catapulted into the public eye and everyone will know my name. Well, that's Alaric's plan at least.

"You ready for this?" Bonnie asks in a quiet voice. Her eyes are so full of understanding that I just want to hug her right then and there. I take a deep breath and nod just as Alaric and Damon approach. They are both dressed in jeans and button up shirts.

Damn. Damon is hot with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I have to shake my head to keep from drooling. I keep telling myself that he's an asshole.

"Good morning, Elena," he purrs. His voice is still arrogant, but it holds none of the malice it did yesterday. I wonder vaguely if Alaric talked to him.

I don't have much time to dwell on that because the doors are opening and Alaric walks in, dragging me with him as Damon trails in behind us.

Holy shit! The room is a giant conference room and there are photographers packed from wall to wall and their flashbulbs are blinding me. I follow Alaric up onto a small stage with a table on it.

We approach the table and take our seats, Alaric on my left and Damon on my right. There are bottles of water on the table and microphones in front of each of us. I'm absolutely horrified. I should've listened to Bonnie better, because none of what I heard her say is coming to mind. All I can do is stare out to the sea of cameras and people calling my name.

"Relax," Damon whispers in my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on my flesh. Damn it. "They aren't going to hurt you. Just smile."

I take Damon's advice, because as much as I hate to admit it, he knows what he's doing. I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders. I guess they aren't that scary after all. I relax more and the smile on my face brightens, the photographers go wild snapping pictures of me left and right. I glance at Damon and he's smiling and waving to the crowd of paparazzi. He has them eating out of the palm of his hand. His smile is dazzling.

"Thank you all for coming. We are very excited to introduce you to our newest artist, Elena Gilbert," Alaric addresses the crowd.

The whole conference only lasts about fifteen minutes, but it goes by in a blur. I answer a few questions about my hometown and what kind of music I hope to make. Most of the questions are directed toward Damon, which is no surprise. The man is a legend. He answers their questions with ease and I'm reminded why I used to love him so much. He's charming and friendly and totally not like that in real life. I ponder the idea of him having a split personality. The idea makes me smile, which causes several more flashes to go off. Shit, I probably look like a lovestruck fool. I quickly turn away from him.

Before I know it, I sign the contract, endure many, many more flashes going off and then we are swept off the stage by our security team. They walk us straight through the hotel lobby and usher us into a large black SUV that takes us back to the studio. I wonder why we are going back there, but then I remember my writing session with Damon. Shit.

* * *

We settle into a cozy room at the studio. There is a baby grand piano in the corner and several guitars lining the far wall. There are two couches and an armchair. Damon walks across the room and flops onto one of the couches and I follow, clutching my songbook to my chest. I take a seat on the armchair next to him and wait. He stares back at me, totally unfazed. Expectant, even.

"So where do we start?" I finally ask, a little irritation leaking into my voice.

"First," he says, his eyes locking with mine and just like that I'm frozen where I sit. This kind of thing never happens to me. I've never been flustered by a guy – a man in this case - before. I hate it. I don't want to be affected by him, but somehow I am and it sucks. "We start by seeing what else you have so far." He eyes the notebook that is attached to my chest.

I immediately understand what he's getting at. "Oh, no, no, no. You are not going through my songbook!" I practically screech, flexing my arms tighter around the small book.

"Well how else am I going to know what you have written? I need to weed out which ones are keepers and which are not," he says with a roll of his eyes. I want to slap him.

"I forgot to tell you," he adds, his voice suddenly low and husky. "You look beautiful today."

I gape at him. Holy shit, did he just say that? I flush instantly. Fuck! I drop my gaze to my lap and let my hair hide my face. The next thing I know, my notebook has been ripped from my grasp.

That asshole!

"Hey!" I yelp, "You did that on purpose!" I leap from my seat and try to snatch my book back. I lean over the armrest of the couch he's on, but he easily moves the book out of my reach and captures both of my wrists in one hand. How the-?

I struggle with all I have, but it's no use. I let out a growl and rip my hands from his grasp and sit back down, my arms crossed over my chest. He gives me an extremely self-satisfied smirk before he dives into my songbook.

I hate him!

"Mmm," he mumbles thoughtfully as he flips through the pages. This is so embarrassing. It's like he's reading my diary.

His eyebrows skyrocket when he flips to the last page. Oh God. Earth, swallow me now.

"Cowboy Casanova?" he says with a smirk and I beg to be struck by lightning.

"This was recent?" he asks, his smirk only deepening and I desperately want to punch him. Or make out with him. I can't decide which I want more.

Punch. I definitely want to punch him.

Then I remember that I date all my songs. Shit.

I just stare at him. I have no words. I am absolutely mortified.

"_He's a good time cowboy casanova_

_Leaning up against the record machine_

_Looks like a cool drink of water_

_But he's candy-coated misery_

_He's the devil in disguise_

_A snake with blue eyes_

_And he only comes out at night_

_Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight_

_You better run for your life_"

He reads my lyrics out loud with a shit-eating grin and I know I'm red all over. This is the lowest moment in my life.

I watch his eyes scan over the rest of the lyrics and then he looks up at me, his gaze unreadable.

"I like it," he finally says.

"You do?" I ask, my voice coming out as a mere squeak.

"It's very honest," he says with a smirk. "You have to be brutally honest when it comes to song writing. Don't ever be ashamed to write what you are really feeling into lyrics. That's the music people are drawn to."

For the first time since meeting him, I'm seeing the man that I fell in love with as a high schooler. This is the Damon I obsessed over. This is the Damon that inspired me to write in the first place.

Suddenly the mood in the room shifts. I see his eyes darken and I feel this magnetic pull toward him. I can hear his breathing pick up and I know he feels it too. Right about now, I'd give anything to climb over the couch and into his lap and jump his bones.

God, who am I? I've never been like this around a guy. Ever. I mean I haven't even had sex with a guy. Ever.

Oh no, I've got it bad. Shit, Gilbert, get it together!

I shake my head and mentally berate myself once more before I feel calm enough to face him.

"Shall we put music to it then?" I ask, trying my best to sound professional and not like a giddy school girl.

Five hours later, we finally call it quits. Damon seems much more relaxed than I've ever seen him, even more than he was during the conference. But I don't dwell on it, not since that moment we had when he read my lyrics.

I'm ready to not be alone with him any longer. It's exhausting trying to force my body to behave. It's drained me completely. I'm definitely going to have to work on that.

"Want to check out your new apartment?" he asks.

No. "Sure."

Damn it, Gilbert! I really shouldn't voluntarily put myself in situations where I'm alone with him. We walk in silence to the back lot of the studio and he leads me to his car. Car. That doesn't begin to cover it.

He leads me to his Range Rover. A fucking Range Rover! It's gorgeous of course. It's all black and sleek with silver hardware. I want to have sex with his car. God, who am I? I wonder for a moment if the fame is already getting to my head.

Then I laugh. I'm not as famous as I think I am. Damon shoots me a strange look as he opens the passenger door for me. I just shake my head and climb onto the black leather seat.

The ride to my new apartment is short and quiet. The tension in the car is almost palpable and I feel the strong need to roll down the window to air it out.

We pull up to a large gate leading underground. Damon quickly punches in a code and the gate slides open and he drives down into the underground lot.

"The paparazzi can't get down here," he explains, answering my unspoken question. I nod and stare out the window as he parks in a numbered spot.

We get out of the car and he leads me to an elevator. Once the doors close I can feel it again. That tether that is taut between us. My blood starts pounding in my veins and my palms get sweaty. I stare studiously ahead, but I can hear his breathing pick up a little and I know he feels it too. That only makes things worse. I focus on my breathing and trying to get it under control when finally -mercifully- the elevator dings and the doors open onto the third floor. I bolted out of there like a bat out of hell.

I follow Damon down the breezeway and stopped in front of number 315. He produces a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. He gestures for me to proceed inside.

It's gorgeous. The walls are a dark gray with white crown molding and baseboards. The carpet is plush and creamy. Right near the door is the kitchen with granite countertops. Granite! And there's a note on the fridge with the gate code on it.

Across from the kitchen is a hallway, which I assume holds the bedroom and bathroom. I walk further into the apartment and into the living room that's right next to the kitchen. The apartment is already furnished with couches, end tables, and a TV. There are empty shelves just waiting for me to fill them up with pictures.

I turn around the room and catch Damon leaning against the wall, watching me with those piercing eyes.

"You like it?" he asks as he walks toward me, his voice is low and husky -fuck me- and sexy as hell.

"I love it," I breathe, and it's a wonder I'm even capable of that. His proximity is intoxicating and I wonder if he has a thing with invading one's personal space.

He comes to a stop only mere inches from me. I can feel the heat radiating off of him and I think I'm going to pass out. He takes my hand in his and raises it between our bodies. I can't take my eyes off of him until I feel something cool press into my palm. I glance down to see my apartment key just before he folds my fist around it.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says quietly and I can feel his breath on my face. I can't get enough. He really is like a drug.

I can't do anything but nod mutely. He gives me a cocky smirk, but his eyes are playful. Our eyes and hands stay locked for a moment longer before he abruptly turns and walks out of the apartment.

I physically sag and sink down on the nearby couch. I'm suddenly exhausted.

I am so screwed.

* * *

**The songs in this chapter were: **

**Tim McGraw by Taylor Swift**

**Cowboy Casanova by Carrie Underwood**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it so far!**

Follow me on twitter: rachellebelle08

**Let me know what you thought, reviews are love!**


	3. Good Girl

**Hello again! Thanks so, so much for all your sweet words. I would reply to them all if I could, but then I'd have no time to actually write. **

**Thanks to my Beta, Jenn aka Elvishgrrl. Who is the fasted Beta in the wild west. LOL But really. Also to Sam who let me pick her brain for SL ideas. **

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

I wake up totally disoriented. It takes me a full minute to realize I'm in my apartment. My fully furnished apartment. Holy smokes.

I snuggle further under the duvet. This bed is so comfy and I want to stay here forever. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. 7:30 am. I've got time. Aunt Jenna is still asleep next to me. I called her last night after Damon left and I pulled myself back together. She brought over all of our luggage from the hotel. We ordered pizza, gossiped, and giggled all night.

I groan inwardly when I realize I'm going to have another long day with Damon. I've only known the man for three days and he's already confusing the crap out of me. One day he is glaring at me and telling me my songs are terrible, and the next he's being sexy and seductive and obliterating my panties with one look. It's disarming and I hate every second of it. I'm used to being in total control of my emotions and my hormones. Really, my hormones haven't ever caused a scene like they do when Damon is around.

I finally push myself out of my bed and pad across the room to my en suite bathroom. I shower quickly, battling images of Damon's hands on me. I'm never like this about anyone, ever. I feel like he has drugged me because I get warm when I think about him and my stomach lurches and I feel this... tightening deep in my belly. I love it and I hate that I love it. These feelings are so confusing that I step out of the shower more agitated and pent up than when I got in. I let the sound of the blow-dryer drown out my thoughts and it's effective until Jenna comes into bathroom with my cell phone in hand.

"Damon is on the phone for you."

I freeze. He's what? Shit! How does he have my number? Why is he calling so early? Why is he calling? What does he need?

I snatch the phone from Jenna's hand and walk into my room with my heart in my throat. How does he do this to me?

"Hello?" I say, desperately trying to keep my voice normal.

"Hello, Elena." His voice is cold and businesslike and still. My name rolls off his tongue so effortlessly that it does unspeakable things to my insides. I mentally chastise myself. Get it together, Gilbert! How can he be so flirtatious and warm last night and so cold and detached today? His mood swings nearly give me whiplash.

"We have a 9 am writing session this morning and a vocal lesson. Don't be late." And then he hangs up. He hangs up! Asshole! I stare at my phone for another minute before throwing it onto my bed in a fit of rage. Who does he think he is? His words repeat in my mind. Don't be late. I scoff. Arrogant prick.

I snap myself out of my angry cloud to change into my customary jean shorts, T shirt, and my favorite pair of worn cowboy boots. It's my go-to outfit.

Jenna and I arrive with about ten minutes to spare. We jump out of her car in the main lot and make our way to the front of the building. I barely have a moment to process what is happening when men with giant cameras swarm me. They are all calling my name and their large flash bulbs are going off only inches from my face, nearly blinding me. Holy shit - these guys are aggressive!

I glance around in a panic, I can feel my heart rate rising and my brain starts to run at a thousand miles a minute. I try to find Jenna in the crowd of screaming men, but I can't see her anywhere and it only fuels my anxiety. I try to push through the wall of men that surrounds me on all sides, but it's futile - they don't budge. I can feel a heaviness in my chest and I'm having a hard time breathing properly. I need to get out. Now. Everyone is yelling. The world is tilting on its side and I'm not sure if my legs will hold me up much longer. In that moment, I seriously think I'm going to be suffocated by these men with their cameras. I'm sure I'm pale, yet none of them say a thing about it, they just keep screaming my name and snapping pictures. Oh God, my chest hurts. I feel like I'm having a heart attack. Everything is moving in slow motion and the voices are getting farther and farther away.

A pair of strong arms wraps around me from behind and my panic only increases. They are kidnapping me. I try to cry out, but I can barely get enough air in my lungs to do so. I attempt to fight the arms off, but my limbs are weak, numb. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't do a thing. Everything is out of my control.

"It's ok." I hear a voice whisper in my ear, but I hardly notice. I have to just let the arms pull me through the throng of men. I hear a lot of yelling. The voice is very close to my ear, but I'm too far gone to really register it. My whole body is shaking and if it weren't for the arms around me, I'd be on the ground. My chest tightens some more, as more flash bulbs blind me, and I truly think I'm going to die. I am terrified. I close my eyes and just wait, wait for death to come and for the pain to finally cease. My knees buckle and I'm falling. However, the arms around me prevent me from hitting the ground. Instead, one wraps around my waist and the other scoops my knees up. I'm cradled against a hard chest. I don't care who it is or what they want with me. I just want to die.

Suddenly, the sounds cease. All I can hear is the sound of my desperate gasps. I'm in someone's lap and I can feel a hand smoothing my hair, but it's doing nothing to stop my racing heart and the pain in my chest. I'm surprised I'm not dead yet. Very slowly, I come back to earth. The dizziness starts to subside and my hearing starts to return. I'm aware of the hand still stroking my hair and an arm draped over my thighs and the hand resting on my hip, holding me to the hard manly chest. My face is tucked into the fabric of his shirt and I'm inhaling his scent. He smells like leather, and musk, and something else I can't place, but it calms me. I feel the steel bands around my chest begin to dissipate and my breathing goes from strangled gasps to panting, like I just ran fourteen miles.

"I should've known there would be paparazzi out there." I hear someone say softly. I think it's Ric.

"God, they just ambushed her." I think that's Jenna. She sounds upset.

"Shh." I hear the chest rumble under my ear and I realize that my panting has turned into whimpers. Now that I'm almost back in my right mind, I realize how mortifying this is. Especially because I can only deduce that the person I'm curled up on is Damon. Fuck. But I still can't move. My limbs are still limp. I'm slowly getting feeling back in them, but not enough to move. And I quite like it here, curled up against Damon's chest, despite how cold he was on the phone.

"Has she had panic attacks before?" I hear Damon's voice again, with the accompanying rumble in his chest. It's relaxing, just like his fingers in my hair.

"No, she's never had one. Not that I'm aware of anyway," Jenna says and just from her voice I can tell she's pacing.

Is that what I had? A panic attack? Jenna is right - I've never had one. Shit, that was scary. I literally thought I was dying.

I finally open my eyes and we are in the writing room. Jenna, as I suspected, is pacing the floor and Alaric is sitting in the armchair across from us, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Hey." Damon's voice is quiet. His hands cradle my face as he examines me. I suddenly feel very vulnerable. My mind is finally back in the right place and all I can think about is that he's too close. He's way too close. Too close and I like it way too much. I need to get away; his proximity is intoxicating.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly. His voice is so gentle, just like his hands. It has me reeling. This is a huge change from his demeanor on the phone. My emotions are all over the place. Part of me knows he'll be no good for me, but the other part of me can't help it - it's like I'm stuck in his gravitational field. My self-preservation instinct takes over and I push myself from his lap as inconspicuously as I can manage, but the look on his face makes it clear that he noticed.

"Oh my God, Elena," Jenna cries, wrapping me in her arms immediately. She pulls back and holds me at arm's length, examining me. I want to roll my eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, Jenna," I murmur, still a little shaken up myself. Although I'm not sure if it's from my panic attack or from Damon's mood swing.

"Are you going to be okay to work today?" Alaric asks, his voice that of a concerned father. I already adore this man. Then I notice Jenna looking at him all lovestruck. Oh! She's totally smitten! I could dig that. Alaric would make an awesome uncle. I already approve of that relationship.

"I'll be fine. Taking my mind off of it will be good for me," I say, and he's placated. When I glance at Damon, however, he's anything but. He sees right through me, I know it.

"I'll leave my car here for you," Jenna says.

"You don't need to do that, Jenna," I say. "Besides, how will you get around today?"

"I can take her," Alaric chimes in. Oh yes, I very much approve of this development.

They say their goodbyes quickly after that, leaving Damon and I totally alone.

"Should we get to writing?" I ask, attempting nonchalance.

"Elena," he sighs, pushing himself up off the couch and taking a few steps toward me.

"Don't. Please, just don't." I close my eyes and hold up my hands, hoping to keep him a safe distance away. I open my eyes and he looks as though he is going to respond, but instead he sighs and glances at his watch.

"Your vocal lesson is in ten minutes." Whoa. Talk about a change of subject. His voice is detached again, holding none of the warmth it had only seconds ago.

"Okay." I nod and without another word between us, I slip out of the room. I nearly wilt with relief once I'm free from Damon's gravitational pull.

"Elena!" I hear my name being called, but I have no energy to look up and see who is coming toward me. I don't think I can handle being asked if I'm okay again.

I can't ignore the girl much longer, as she's standing right next to me, so I look up to see blonde, bubbly Caroline giving me a conspiratorial smile.

"I know what you've been up to," she says slyly, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I give her a confused look and she just hands me a tabloid. With a picture of Damon on the cover. And a picture of me. And a giant headline that reads SNEAKING AROUND?

I think I'm going to be sick.

"'Producer Damon Salvatore and Elena Gilbert were spotted pulling up to her Nashville apartment. Witnesses say he stayed for almost a half hour before leaving alone. We're thinking he more than kissed her goodnight.'" She reads the article out loud.

"Oh my God," I groan, dropping my head into my hands. It's already begun.

"Oh, that's not it," she declares, whipping her phone out of her pocket and punching the touch screen several times.

"Here, TMZ just updated," she says and starts reading. "'Elena Gilbert was accosted by the paparazzi outside Saltzman Records and guess who came to her rescue? None other than The Damon Salvatore. We're thinking there is more than a business relationship between them.'"

"Fuck," I breathe.

"So, what is going on between you two?" Caroline asks. "He corrupting the good girl in you?"

"Nothing is going on, Caroline," I say, exasperated. She of all people should know that she can't believe everything she reads.

"Good, he's no good for you. Get out while you can and don't let him blind you," she says seriously before she bids me goodbye and continues down the hall.

I shake my head and push myself toward my vocal lesson, trying desperately to forget Caroline's words, but they play in my head on repeat. I should stay away from him. He is no good. He can't possibly give me the things I dream of in a relationship. Hell, I don't even know if he likes me even remotely like that. I need to stay away from him, keep my heart locked up tight. Throughout my whole lesson this melody plays in my mind and I can't wait to get it on paper. I need to get this song out for my own good.

I scramble back to the writing room after my vocal lesson. The lesson wasn't as bad as I expected and it definitely helped distract me from the incident this morning.

The room is mercifully empty and I snatch the nearest guitar and settle into the couch, my songbook open next to me. I strum a few chords and then scribble into my book furiously and that's how Damon finds me an hour later, finishing up my newest song. His posture is closed off as he comes and sits next to me on the couch.

"New song?" he asks, gesturing to my open notebook.

I nod. I don't want to say anything because I'm afraid I'll crack my indifferent facade.

"You going to play it or not?" he asks sarcastically. I feel my blood boil. Yeah, this guy is no good for me. I can't handle all his varying moods. They change faster than I change my underwear.

I take a deep breath. I'm nervous now. I've never played a song for someone when the song is about them. I strum the opening chords, letting the rocking tune take me to another place in my mind. A place where there is only music. I let the pounding rhythm pulse through my veins. This is the ultimate high.

_"Hey, good girl_

_With your head in the clouds_

_I bet you I can tell you_

_What you're thinkin' about_

_You'll see a good boy_

_Gonna give you the world_

_But he's gonna leave you cryin'_

_With your heart in the dirt_

_His lips are dripping honey_

_But he'll sting you like a bee_

_So lock up all your love and_

_Go and throw away the key"_

I let the music swell, taking over and preparing for the hook. This is so cathartic; this is just what I needed after today. This is my therapy.

_"Why, why you gotta be so blind?_

_Won't you open up your eyes?_

_It's just a matter of time 'til you find_

_He's no good, girl_

_No good for you_

_You better get to getting on your goodbye shoes and go, go, go..._

_Better listen to me_

_He's low, low, low..."_

I finish the song and soon silence fills the room. He just stares at me, his expression totally unreadable. The silence stretches and I squirm uncomfortably. I hate silence, but I refuse to be the first to break it.

"Why did you write that?" he asks, his voice low, dangerous.

"I wrote it to myself," I reply quietly, my eyes never leaving his. I'm stuck. I'm being pulled in by his gravity.

"Why would you write this to yourself?" His voice doesn't change. It's still scarily even.

"It's a warning," I whisper. His eyes widen slightly, but it's enough for me to notice. This is too much. He totally knows it's about him.

"Like Cowboy Casanova?" He pins me with a steady gaze and his eyebrows rise.

"Yes." Shit. He knows. He absolutely knows. This conversation is so not going the way I originally imagined. I thought he'd give some smart ass remark about my abilities and then tell me how I need to change the song to improve it.

"You should take your own advice," he says sternly. "I'm no good for you, Elena." Whoa. I did _not_ see that coming! Does that mean he feels the same thing I feel? That undeniable pull, that tether between us that is only pulling us closer?

"How do you know they're about you," I ask after a few moments of silence while I composed myself.

He levels me with an 'are you stupid?' look. Yeah, I'm kicking myself for that one. I'm precariously dangling on the edge of a precipice, and no matter which way I fall it's not going to end well.

"Why did you quit music?" I blurt out and for a moment he looks absolutely shocked. I feel an ounce of satisfaction that I'm able to break his cold facade.

There is no noise. I can't even hear the sound of my own breathing, probably because I'm holding my breath. The tension between us is almost becoming too much. Did I cross the line? Is he going to yell at me? Is he going to refuse to produce me? Is he going to have me dropped from the label? I want to scream at him to say something, but his stare freezes me.

"I think we're done for the day," he says finally and he drops my gaze before he rises from the couch. I am still frozen, forced to watch his retreating back before it disappears altogether out the door.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

**The song is called Good Girl by Carrie Underwood.**

**Thank you so much for reading. Without you guys, this story would just be floating around in my mind, screaming to be written.**

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	4. Wild One

**Everyone still alive after the hell of a finale we had yesterday?**

**I was on the fence about posting because I was thinking that no one would want to read after the finale. But I finished this before the finale, so it's not tainted. **

**Thanks to Jenn, elvishgrrl, for beta-ing for me. You are amazing. **

**I hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

It's been three weeks since the incident with Damon and he's barely said two words to me since. The only time Damon will speak to me is when it's about work. I guess I shouldn't be surprised - he did say he was no good for me. The worst part of it all is that his underlying warning has been totally eclipsed by the fact that he basically confirmed that he was attracted to me as well. That should not make me happy. I should focus on the fact that he's probably damaged beyond repair. But how I should feel and what I actually feel are on two separate hemispheres.

I haven't written any more songs about him since the 'Good Girl' fiasco. Well, I've written songs about him, he just doesn't know it because they are buried in the bottom of one of my desk drawers so he'll never find them.

Jenna left two weeks ago, much to Alaric's disappointment, but I bet she'll be back soon. I wasn't ready for her to leave. I'm a lot braver with Jenna by my side. I still don't feel like I can quite handle Nashville by myself. It's not really Nashville's fault. I blame Damon. He's made me uncomfortable in my own skin. He's so hard to read and I find myself constantly second guessing things that I normally never would. It's frustrating, but it only makes me realize that he was right when he said he was no good for me. I just can't seem to get my hormones to agree.

I'm excited as I get ready tonight because Bonnie and Caroline offered to take me out to dinner for my birthday. I had an awful week, my guitar didn't survive the move with the rest of my stuff, my boots and I got soaked from the rain on my way to work the other day, and to top it all off, I've been battling writer's block all week. But tonight will be a much-needed release from the stress of this week.

I glance over my makeup - which is darker than normal, but it still looks like me - and my hair that falls in soft waves down to my breasts. I'm pretty proud of my handiwork. I pad back into my bedroom and slip on my new sleeveless chiffon colorblock dress. It's perfect for the Nashville summer evening. I slip into my navy wedges right as I hear a knock at my door.

Caroline and Bonnie are dressed impeccably, and though I feel under dressed, they rave about my outfit. Apparently I chose well. I smile and take their compliments, but on the inside I'm beaming. We walk out the front of the complex and find several photographers waiting for us. They haven't sent me into a panic attack since the first time, but I'm still nervous around them. In almost every picture they've taken of me I've look stiff and uncomfortable. It's not a good first impression with the general public. So tonight when we walk out I smile and laugh with Bonnie and Caroline drawing from their strength and their warm energy.

We wave to the photographers as we climb into Caroline's Mercedes. Then we're off, cruising the streets of Nashville, singing along with the radio, and just being girls. It's refreshing. It's just what I needed.

We pull up outside a fancy Japanese restaurant and Caroline simply hands her keys to the valet before strutting inside. Bonnie and I follow with a little less flair. Once inside, we're escorted to a private dining room with a large steel grill and several chairs situated at the counter around it. We move around the grill and take our seats with me between the two of them. Our cook puts on one hell of a show. He stacks slices of an onion to create a little mountain before he fills it with oil and lights it on fire. I'm surprised I survive that with my eyebrows intact. He also impresses us while he juggles several eggs with his spatula. By the end of his performance we are all smiles and applauding loudly.

"I haven't seen any news of you and Damon in the papers recently," Caroline says as we enjoy our food.

"There is nothing going on between Damon and I," I reply with a roll of my eyes.

"Not according to the tabloids," Caroline teases.

"Caroline!" Bonnie reprimands her. "You of all people should know you can't believe everything you read!"

"I'm just giving her a hard time," Caroline defends herself. I laugh and shake my head because this conversation just feels so normal. It's been so long since I've had girlfriends.

"But really, Elena," Bonnie says, her mocha eyes burning with sincerity. "Damon is damaged goods. Katherine messed him up big time."

"What did she do?" I hear myself asking and sounding far too interested. Shit.

"Nobody knows," she says simply with a shrug. I glance over at Caroline and she's eyeing me suspiciously. Double shit. She can see right through me.

"You are totally crushing on him!" Caroline exclaims and I try to play it cool, but that only works for about 1.7 seconds before I start blushing, totally giving myself away.

"I'm not," I say when I get myself under control once more. "He's just... intimidating. I don't know what to think when he's around."

"Sounds like the Damon Effect." Caroline nods and I feel so stupid. Of course I'm just one of the many women he's dazzled. How did I not see that? I shake my head and steel my resolve to not let him affect me. It's a stupid crush and it'll pass. I'm just one of the many. Surprisingly, that thought comforts me. I'm not alone in my reactions to him. I'm not the only one affected by him and his presence. I can breathe easier knowing that it'll pass.

We finish our meal, chatting and gossiping like we've been friends since the sandbox. Once we clear our plates, Caroline and Bonnie refuse to let me pay for my own meal. I'm a whole record contract richer - I could've paid for my own meal. But I let it go because I have a feeling I don't stand a chance against those two. We smile for some more photographers as we wait for the valet to retrieve Caroline's car. Our plan is to hit up a legendary club in downtown Nashville. I'm excited. It'll be my first real night out since moving here.

My excitement hits an all time high when we pull up to the club. It looks very modern from the outside. The place seems like it is empty; there doesn't seem to be any sound coming from inside the club, but there is a valet out front that takes Caroline's keys once again and drives off. We approach the front door and the bouncer lets us inside without question. Now I know for a fact I'm not that famous.

We walk into the dark club, when suddenly the lights flick on and my eyes adjust to the light to see the club full of people screaming "surprise!" at me. Whoa.

I see Jenna, my parents, my younger brother, Jeremy. It isn't until I see them now that I realize how much I've missed them. I also see Alaric and Damon in the crowd along with the entire Saltzman Records staff. Wow, this is amazing.

With a ridiculous grin, I bolt across the room and take both my parents in my arms. God, it feels good to see them, to be cocooned in their love. I feel the sting of oncoming tears behind my eyes, but I blink them back as I release my parents. Jeremy seizes the opportunity to wrap me in a giant bear hug that lifts my feet off the ground. I laugh freely for what feels like the first time in over three weeks.

"I've missed you while you've been out here being a big shot!" Jeremy says as he sets me down and holds me at arm's length to examine me. "Do you feel 23?"

I laugh again. "No, it hasn't quite sunk in yet."

I turn to see Alaric and Damon just as they walk up to us. I take a deep breath and put my game face on. He will not affect me. Not anymore. I refuse to be one of the many that are affected by him.

I give them both a broad grin. "Alaric, Damon, these are my parents, Grayson and Miranda Gilbert. Mom, Dad, this is Alaric Saltzman, the owner of Saltzman Records and Damon Salvatore, my producer."

They all take turns shaking hands. My parents handle Ric and Damon like champs. They seem as though they aren't affected one bit by Damon and Ric's fame. I feel a surge of pride watching them interact. I get swept away by all the other guests that are anxious to wish me a happy birthday.

The night flows effortlessly and soon I'm being summoned to the small stage where Alaric is frantically waving me over, microphone in hand. That man should be kept away from microphones. But I shuffle to the stage, all eyes on me. I'm still not sure how to handle being the center of attention.

"Thank you all for coming," Alaric says to the crowd as he slings an arm around me. "We are so happy to have Elena at our label. She's an amazing woman, extremely talented, and we are lucky to have her. So tonight," he continues as he turns to me. "We want to thank you for all your hard work and wish you a happy birthday!"

Just as he finishes, a waiter wheels out a giant sheet cake with an equally large fondant acoustic guitar on top. There are 23 candles stuck sporadically into the frosting. Once the cart is settled in front of me, Ric leads the crowd in singing "Happy Birthday" to me before I blow out my candles.

After the cake is cut and served, the music really begins and people flood the dance floor. Bonnie and Caroline practically drag me out, but I'm glad they do. The music is infectious and soon I find myself surrendering to it's beat. The floor is crowded and after a while I get way too hot, so I sneak outside for a much-needed break.

The summer air is warm, but there is a cool breeze that is refreshing. I let out a deep breath as I round the corner of the building and lean against the brick.

A few moments later I hear the door to the club open and then close and soon I'm joined by my mom.

"Suffocating isn't it?" I ask with a chuckle as she lets out an exhausted breath.

"A little bit, yeah," she agrees with a smile. Oh, I've missed her. We stand in silence for a while, just enjoying the summer night.

"So, you want to tell me what is going on between you and Damon?" she asks finally. Wow, I wasn't expecting that.

"There is nothing going on, Mom," I say seriously, in a drop-it-now tone. Yet, of course, she doesn't.

"You sure?" She raises her eyebrows in disbelief. She sees right through me. "I've seen the tabloids. Now I know I can't believe everything they print, but it has to stem from a little bit of truth. Not to mention the fact that he hasn't once taken his eyes off you all night." She shoots me a pointed look.

"Mom," I warn because frankly, I don't know how to react to this new information.

"I just want to make sure you don't lose yourself here," she whispers as her eyes travel over my face and her hand grasps mine.

"I'll be fine," I assure her seriously and give her hand a squeeze.

"He cares about you." Her statement derails me. She can't possibly know that.

"Damon doesn't care about anyone," I say with a shake of my head.

* * *

When Caroline finally drops me off at my apartment, I'm exhausted and carrying my shoes in one hand. According to Ric, all my gifts will be delivered to my apartment.

It was a good night. I was able to keep Damon out of my mind for most of the night until my mother had to ruin it and bring him up. But by the time I reentered the club he was gone. I think the universe was supporting my decision. I try to push thoughts of Damon from my mind as I approach the elevator, but it only serves to conjure up more images of him. Like the way that tether felt between us when we rode the elevator together the first time I saw my apartment. My mind wanders to what it would be like to stand in here with him again after all that's happened between us. What it would feel like to have his body pressing mine into the corner, right after he pushes the stop button. As I step out of the elevator, I shake my head to clear my wayward thoughts before they can go too far.

I unlock my door and trudge inside, flipping on the lights as I go. I round the kitchen and into the living room. The table in the dining area behind the couch catches my attention. Holy shit. There is a huge vase full of pink gerbera daisies. There has to be at least two dozen crammed in there. I step closer to find a card, but as I do I notice a guitar propped up against the table with a big bow tied at the base of the neck.

Fuck. Me.

It's a Gibson J-185 Custom Vine Acoustic. That's a $6,000 guitar and it's sitting in my living room. I think I'm going to faint. I plop down on the floor right in front of it and examine it closely. It's gorgeous. Then I notice my name is scrawled into the neck, underneath the strings. Oh holy shit. It's personalized. A $6,000 guitar and it's fucking personalized! I think I might die right here and now.

I untie the bow and a small white envelope falls to the floor. There is nothing on the front, so I open it up and pull out the simple white card.

_I _do_ care._

_-D_

I drop the card and envelope as if they've burned me. There is no way in hell that Damon bought me a personalized $6,000 guitar. Fuck! How am I supposed to stay away from him when he does things like this? I pull the guitar into my lap very gently, as if it's a piece of fine china. My fingers strum the strings and the sound is divine.

Here I sit for the next hour. Playing my new guitar on the floor of my living room and cursing Damon Salvatore's name.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! **

**I won't rage about the episode because it's like beating a dead horse. If you want to check out my thoughts on the finale, go to my livejournal: princessme385 (dot) livejournal (dot) com**

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**Reviews are love! Especially after such a crazy episode last night.**


	5. American Honey

**Hi again. Thank you all so, so, so much for all of your reviews/favorites/alerts. They have only helped me write this chapter faster. **

**Great news, I think all the writer's block from the finale has disappeared, so we can all have a big HUZZAH for that.  
**

**Anyway, your support means the world and thanks again to my beta, Jenn (elvishgrrl) for her speedy/amazing beta work.  
**

* * *

"We're dropping 'Change' as your first single," Damon says as he breezes into the writing room. Fifteen minutes late, I may add. Perhaps he had another late night of boozing and bedding women. I roll my eyes. For the past week since my birthday party, Damon has been slutting it up and he hasn't bothered to be private about it. Every tabloid and magazine and gossip website have photos and reports on it. And of course, Caroline reads them to me almost everyday.

I bring myself to the here and now as I process what Damon has just told me. I'm dropping a single and it's not the song that I had imagined dropping first. My first single is a big deal - it will determine how well people receive me and how well my album will sell later.

"Why does it have to be 'Change'?" I ask, trying to sound non-confrontational. I'm really not looking for a fight, at least not right now. "I was really thinking about 'Fearless' being the first single."

"Because I'm the one who knows what they are doing and I say we're dropping 'Change'," he barks at me. My, oh my, he's pissy this morning. Maybe he's upset because he couldn't get it up last night or something. The thought makes me want to giggle. Until I remember that all week he's shown up late, said about four words total to me, and left early. Then he walks in here with this heavy-handed shit. No. I'm not okay with this.

"I want to drop 'Fearless', Damon. I know people will relate to it much more and I feel like it really captures the essence of my music as a whole," I explain calmly. I really can't believe I haven't flipped my lid yet. It's been hard not to lash out at him this week. First he tells me that I'm no good for him, then he buys me a $6,000 guitar and gives me a note telling me that he cares, then he spends the next week ignoring me completely and runs around bedding half of Nashville.

"I wasn't asking for your input. I'm telling you that we're recording and dropping 'Change'. We have a 9 am studio appointment tomorrow." He looks like he's having a hard time keeping his temper in check. Well so am I, asshole!

"You going to be late to that, too?" I sneer at him. He tries to level me with a death stare, but I'm too far beyond livid to be affected. "This is a deal breaker, Damon. I get to choose my own single or I'm walking, not that you'd care. Oh wait, _you_ _do_." I'm so angry that I'm seeing red. This man infuriates me.

"I told you that in confidence," he snaps, his eyes are wide and glance around the room as if someone was here to hear it.

"No," I snap right back, rising out of my chair. "You told me that in a card. Like a fucking coward." And I walk out because if I stay much longer, I'll say something I regret. There is no way I can write anything today. Not with him. I contemplate going to Ric and asking for a new producer because I'm not sure if I can work with Damon any longer.

"Elena!" I hear him call my name, but I don't turn around. I know if I do, I'll slap him and then I'll get in trouble. I keep walking with my head down, heading toward the back parking lot where my new Prius - courtesy of Ric and his over the top birthday present - is. I hear his footsteps getting closer until he finally reaches out and grabs my forearm.

"Don't touch me," I hiss at him as I swivel around to glare at him.

I try to rip my arm out of his grasp, but he only holds tighter and pulls me closer to his body. My eyes snap to his face and for just a moment I see pure, unguarded hurt written on his features. I hurt his feelings. But, as I make this realization, the look has disappeared under his cold stare. Fuck, this guy has issues. Big issues. Yet, that one fleeting moment totally knocks me off balance. Am I still even angry? I have no fucking clue. His proximity is doing nothing good for me. I can feel the heat rolling off of him and it's doing crazy things to my lady parts.

"No one has ever talked to me like that," he muses quietly. There is a little bit of wonder to his voice and a subtle sparkle in his incredibly blue eyes. Then he chuckles a little and shakes his head in disbelief. I'm just standing there like a dumbfounded idiot.

He takes a deep breath as if what he's about to say is going to be painful. "Fine," he speaks in a low voice - a voice that is almost hot-wired to my core. "I'll give you this because I don't want you to walk." What? Holy shit, he's caving!

He holds my stare for a moment longer and I hear a low rumble come from the back of his throat. Shit, that's sexy as hell. I'm totally mesmerized and the entire time I am standing there, half of my body screams to run away and the other half screams to jump his bones. Maybe I'm the one with the issues.

After what could've been hours, he drops my arm and walks away, leaving me totally immobile and watching his retreating back until he disappears down the hallway.

* * *

Damon has been acting... normal. It's so strange. What's strange is the fact that I think it's strange that he's acting normal. What has this man done to me?

I lay face down on my bed with no motivation to face the day. It's been a week since my single dropped and I'm dreading to find out how well it did or how much it bombed. Ric said to give it a week and then we'd check and see how it has done.

I'm so nervous, I feel sick. I contemplate staying in the warm fortress of my bed, but I know someone will come looking for me. I also know that someone would be Damon. Maybe that's not such a bad idea.

I snap myself out of that thought immediately by jumping out of bed and onto my feet. I mustn't think like that. Damon is just my producer and that is it. That is the way it's going to stay. He's like a storm that could level me in seconds and yet there is something thrilling about fighting with him. He pushes my buttons like no one else has. He makes me feel so much. Anger. Excitement. Passion.

No! Stop that! I berate myself as I walk into my bathroom and leave all thoughts of Damon behind.

I emerge 45 minutes later shaved, scrubbed, shampooed, blow dried, and made up. Not that I have a problem being photographed sans make up, but when my face is being seen around the nation and maybe the world, I don't want to look like a zombie.

I make it to the studio in record time and as I pass the front entrance I am floored by the amount of paparazzi out front. It has to be double the amount of people that were there the day I had my panic attack. I speed around to the back, grateful that they don't know what car I drive. For now at least.

I walk through the back doors and I head straight to Ric's office to find out how my single fared over the week. Everyone I pass in the hall stops and says hi to me or waves at me. It's strange because most of them don't normally give me the time of day. The only people I have really talked to here are Ric, Damon, Caroline, and Bonnie. Even other producers are asking me how I'm doing. I'm utterly baffled.

I walk into Ric's office and he and Damon are in a deep discussion. Or are they arguing? I can't tell because as soon as the door closes they are as cool as cucumbers. Damon just gives me an indifferent stare that I choose to ignore, but Alaric is bouncing around like a small boy on Christmas. His excitement is palpable in the small office. I sit in the chair next to Damon's and we both turn to Ric.

Ric's attire is every bit the music mogul he is, with is crisp linen shirt and dark slacks, but the glee on his face makes him look like a teenager.

Damon, on the other hand is a knockout in black boots, dark blue jeans, and a grey V-neck shirt. Damn, he looks good. I have to force myself to tear my eyes from Damon's form and focus on the meeting I'm walking into.

"So I'm guessing you want to know how your single sold?" Ric says, his smile threatening to crack his face in half.

I just stare at him. Hell yeah, I want to know how my single did.

"Ric, just tell her for crying out loud," Damon says with a sigh and then shoots me a don't-give-me-that-face-I've-had-to-deal-with-him-for-years look. It makes me smile. This is how it's been like between us all week. Just this constant unspoken communication that passes through us and we understand perfectly.

"Okay," Ric concedes and takes a deep dramatic breath. I fight a smile and I want to roll my eyes at his antics. "Your single debuted at number three on the Billboard Top 100 and it's currently number one on iTunes and has been for three days."

I feel my jaw drop open. I just stare at Alaric as if he's speaking jibberish to me.

Number three.

Billboard.

Number one.

iTunes.

The words float around in my mind but none truly connect.

Holy. Shit.

"Elena?" I hear someone say my name, but I'm still trying to process this whole conversation.

"I'm number one on iTunes?" I squeak.

Ric's smile is exuberant as he nods a confirmation. I glance over at Damon and I'm floored to see his face lit up.

"You're number one on iTunes," Damon repeats with a smile. A legitimate smile and it stuns me. His whole face changes when he smiles like that. Holy shit, he's gorgeous. I also see a hint of pride in his eyes and it brings blood rushing to my cheeks. I hate how easily he does that to me.

"So, what happens now?" I ask, my ridiculous grin matching both of theirs. We are all just grinning at each other like idiots. Well, not Damon because he could never look like an idiot.

"Well, there are a few talk shows knocking down your door. Bonnie lined up an appearance for you to interview and perform on Access Hollywood and Ellen Degeneres in L.A. and she lined up a performance on Good Morning America in New York City," Alaric explains.

I just shake my head in reply. L.A.? New York? "This is really happening."

"You ready for this?" I turn to Damon at the sound of his voice and our eyes lock. Briefly something passes between us. I see something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Faith. He believes in me. Before things can get too intense, I drop my eyes to the worn toes of my boots.

When I raise my eyes, I feel a lot of the same faith Damon has in me in myself. "Yeah, I am."

* * *

"So that's why everyone was nice to me this morning," I muse as Damon and I walk together to the writing room. We still have a few more songs to work out before we can really get to recording.

"What?" He looks at be quizzically.

"Because I proved myself," I say simply with a shrug.

I catch his look of approval before I slip into the writing room ahead of him.

We settle into our usual seats and I immediately grab for the guitar that is leaning against my chair. I examine it and I think of my new guitar that is sitting safely in my apartment.

"Thank you, by the way," I blurt out without thinking. His head cocks to the side in confusion so I'm forced to clarify. "For the guitar. Thank you."

He stares at me for a whole minute and I fidget under his gaze. He is giving nothing away. Finally a small smile pulls at his lips. "You're welcome."

The room is tense and neither of us really knows where to go from here.

"So," he says awkwardly after a few moments, "You want to play me the newest song?"

Yes. Finally, some level ground. This is what I know; this is how I know how to deal with Damon. This is all business and has nothing to do with my attraction to him. Mostly.

I pick around on the guitar, tuning it to exactly how I want it and begin to strum the chords of my newest creation. The music fills the room and banishes all of the remaining tension from earlier.

_"She grew up on a side of the road_

_Where the church bells ring and strong love grows_

_She grew up good_

_She grew up slow_

_Like American honey_

_Steady as a preacher_

_Free as a weed_

_Couldn't wait to get goin'_

_But wasn't quite ready to leave_

_So innocent, pure and sweet_

_American honey_

_There's a wild, wild whisper_

_Blowing in the wind_

_Calling out my name like a long lost friend_

_Oh I miss those days as the years go by_

_Oh nothing's sweeter than summer time_

_And American honey"_

I sing about the life I left behind in Mystic Falls. About how, despite all the blessings that have come from this opportunity, I still miss the little country girl from the tiny town in Virginia. I sing about how sometimes I wish I could just go back in time to my childhood where nothing mattered in the world except for getting home in time for dinner.

I finish the song and wait in silence for Damon's deciding judgment. He remains deep in thought for a while before his azure eyes flick up to mine and he smiles that small, sweet smile again.

"I think you really dug deep for this one," he says finally. "And it really shows. Good work, Elena." Whoa. Did I just get a compliment from _The_ Damon Salvatore?

I respond with a smile and all the excitement from the day comes flooding in. "I'm so excited about going to L.A. and New York." The sheer exuberance in my voice is almost tangible.

"You ever been?" he asks.

I only shake my head. I haven't been hardly anywhere. Unless I'm counting Nashville. Nashville definitely takes the cake for most exotic place I've been.

"You're going to love it," he says confidently and I believe him.

"I hope Bonnie can show me all the cool places," I say wistfully, thinking of all the hot spots she could take me to.

The light leaves Damon's face for a split second, but I catch it. "Bonnie isn't going."

"What?" I ask because he must be kidding. Either that or I heard him wrong.

"She's going on vacation with her family," he explains warily. I wonder where this is going. Damon rarely does wary.

"Then who is going with me?" I ask suspiciously, almost afraid of the answer.

"I am."

Oh shit.

* * *

**Oh shit is right, Elena. **

**Next two chapters are going to be the trips to L.A. and New York. Two of my favorite places ever.  
**

**The song from this chapter is 'American Honey' by Lady Antebellum. I thought it fit perfectly for Elena.  
**

**Thanks again for your support and most of the time I don't take suggestions, but if there are songs in particular you like, let me know. I can't guarantee I'd find a place for them, but they help get the creative juices flowing.  
**

**Reviews are love and y'all can follow me on Twitter: rachellebelle08  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	6. Gravity

**Hello everyone! Thank you (again) for all your amazing reviews. Your support for this story seriously means so much to me. **

**Thanks to Emma for letting me bombard her with various ideas and SL's. Also, HUGE thank you to Jenn, elvishgrrl, for being an amazing beta. Read her stuff. Do it. Now. Or after you read this chapter, that's cool too. ;)**

**Onto the chapter...**

* * *

I'm bouncing up and down in my first class seat like a kid on Christmas morning, despite how early it is.

"You excited?" Damon is amused as he looks at me.

"I've never been on a plane before, never mind in first class," I reply with a sheepish smile.

"Never?" he asks, completely shocked.

"Never," I confirm, right before the captain's voice comes over the PA.

Our flight to Los Angeles is pretty painless. We arrive almost as early as we took off with the time difference.

"I'm going to warn you that L.A. is very different from Nashville. There will be people following you everywhere. And when we go through the airport they will swarm you," Damon explains seriously as we taxi from the runway to our gate. "Just stay close to me and you'll be fine, I promise." His words relax me more than he could know. Or does he know that I'm so afraid to have another panic attack?

I give him a tight smile and he squeezes my hand with his own. The touch sends a jolt through my arm that echoes throughout my entire body, and judging by the way he drops my hand so quickly, he felt it too.

"So what is on the schedule for today?" I ask as I tangle my fingers in my lap.

"We will go straight to The Ellen Show when we disembark and after that we'll go to Access Hollywood. Tonight is the ACM's and we'll be attending that too, so it'll be your first red carpet event. Caroline is flying in to help you get ready for that. And after that, I'd like to take you out."

Holy shit. He wants to take me out. Take me where? I'm sure my shocked face says it all for him because I'm not even bothering hiding it. I feel that after the roller coaster ride that has been our relationship, I have no need to hide it.

"There is a little open mic bar that I've been going to for years," he says, answering my unspoken question with a shrug that is supposed to tell me this is no big deal. "And to the beach, because Pacific Coast beaches kick Atlantic Coast beaches' asses." Then he winks at me. Winks at me! Who is the man in front of me and what the hell has he done with Damon Salvatore?

Mercifully, I get my shit together. "We'll see how your precious Pacific Ocean measures up."

Before he gets a chance to respond, the door to the plane opens and first class is told we are free to exit the aircraft. We rise simultaneously and Damon pulls our carry-on luggage from the overhead compartment. I reach out to grab my suitcase from him, but he just nails me with a you-didn't-just-try-to-take-that-from-me look. I drop my hand back to my side, hitch my shoulder back up higher and follow him down the aisle and through the jet bridge. As we walk through the terminal, we are stopped several times by fans that want pictures with us. It's awesome. I can get used to this kind of attention. They are all so sweet and complimentary; they do wonderful things for my ego. That is probably where Damon's came from.

We walk past the security lines, thankful that we don't have to go through security to get out as well. And then I see it - the wall of photographers all gearing up for our arrival.

"Oh, shit," I breathe and I don't realize I've said it out loud until Damon turns and gives me an encouraging smile.

"Just ignore them - that's what I do," he says as we approach them. "They can't come near you, they have to stay out of your way."

I nod at him and move so that I'm walking more behind him than next to him. The second we are past the security checkpoint, they descend. They stay a respectable distance away, but for me it's still too close. They are all yelling Damon's and my names and some are walking backwards in front of us, snapping pictures as we walk through LAX.

As if Damon senses my discomfort, he shifts our bags to one side and extends his arm to me. Without a thought to spare, I grab onto the crook of his elbow and walk as close to him as possible. There is a small part of me that is aware that this will send the wrong message to the tabloids, but I'm past caring right now. Flashbacks of my panic attack are running through my mind and I try to focus on the sound of our feet and Damon's body next to mine.

Once outside, two bodyguards flank us. They usher us into a large SUV right after the driver takes our bags and loads them into the back. I finally breathe more easily once the door closes. Shit, that was intense, but definitely not as bad as the first time.

"Getting easier?" he asks, voicing my thoughts aloud.

"I think so," I reply as the car pulls from the curb. "It's also easier to deal with when I'm not alone."

His eyes snap to mine and that tether is back - and boy is it taut with the unspoken chemistry between us. I swear, it gets worse as the weeks go by, not better. I turn away from him first, but it's still there, just as strong and prominent as before. God, I'm so fucked.

I stare out the window the entire ride, no longer to ignore Damon, but because I'm enraptured by the palm trees that wiz by. It looks exactly like it does in pictures and in movies. I'm already in love. Despite the early hour, there are people on longboards and people in the ocean surfing.

I'm way too enthralled with the scenery to be annoyed with the traffic. After what only feels like minutes - but based on the look on Damon's face it was probably much longer than that - we pull into the back lot at Warner Brothers. I am fully aware that I am sitting with my mouth agape, but I couldn't give a shit.

The morning on The Ellen Show goes by in a blur of dressing rooms, bright lights, and an energetic audience. The interview portion is easy. I don't even remember what I said, but obviously it was good because when I make it back stage to get ready to sing, Damon is smiling at me. His usual emotionless face has broken out in a face-splitting smile. Pride swells in my chest because I'm the reason he's smiling like that and I have learned that it's not an easy feat.

The backstage team removes the microphone I was wearing for the interview and clips a cordless mic pack onto the belt on my dress. Damon comes over and hands me my guitar - the very guitar he gave me - while using one hand to place the strap over my head to rest on my shoulder. His proximity makes me feel warm all over and I find myself trying to focus on the task at hand. I'm singing in front of my first live audience since being signed to a label and being catapulted into celebrity status. This is a big fucking deal.

"45 seconds!" one of the stagehands with a big headset on calls out. I take a deep breath. And then another.

"They're going to love you," Damon says in a low serious voice. "Hell, they already do. You can do this. This is the easy part."

I nod, mostly because what he's saying is true and a little bit because I'm too nervous to do anything else. Before I know it, I'm being scooted out in front of a microphone. The audience cheers again before everyone is told to stay quiet and the show director starts the countdown to filming. I force myself to breathe steadily while I listen to Ellen welcome the viewers back and introduce me.

Here goes nothing.

The lights come up and the audience cheers and it's all me. I curse myself for a moment for suggesting I do this acoustic. But as quickly as the thought comes, it vanishes the moment I play the first chord.

Damon was right. This is what I know. This is easy.

_There's somethin' 'bout the way_

_The street looks when it's just rained_

_There's a glow off the pavement you walk me to the car_

_And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there_

_In the middle of the parking lot_

_Yeah_

_Oh yeah_

_We're drivin' down the road I wonder if you know_

_I'm tryin' so hard not to get caught up now_

_But you're just so cool_

_Run your hands through your hair_

_Absent mindedly makin' me want you_

_And I don't know how it gets better than this_

_You take my hand and drag me head first_

_Fearless_

_And I don't know why but with you_

_I'd dance in a storm in my best dress_

_Fearless_

There are a few moments of silence before the crowd erupts into applause. I look up and they are all on their feet, cheering. I can't help the smile that breaks out across my face. This. Is. Fucking. Awesome.

The rest of the day is one and the same.

Listen.

Smile.

Laugh.

Say something cute.

Smile some more.

I soak up every moment and embrace every fan I possibly can, but when we finally make it to the hotel, I'm exhausted and so not ready to deal with Caroline. But I can't put off the inevitable.

"Elena!" she screeches my name and I swear there are dolphins at SeaWorld that heard her.

"Hey, Care," I set my bag down and embrace the bouncing blonde.

I settle into the chair in front of her vanity set-up and let her do her thing, the whole while listening to her chat about anything and everything. It's almost soothing. Caroline is the best distraction, yet her mindless chatter is grounding to me. She makes no apologies for being herself.

I lose myself in her life stories and the gossip she's picked up around Nashville. Then the conversation goes completely awry.

"I saw those pictures of you and Damon from the airport this morning," she says, while she is attempting to be nonchalant. She fails spectacularly.

"Caroline," I whine, because I really don't want to talk about it. "There is nothing going on between us."

She rolls her eyes as she simultaneously rolls another curler into my hair. "Well, you are sure doing a shitty job of trying to set everyone straight - what with all the clinging and being spotted alone together. Not to mention it's rumored that Damon convinced Ric to give Bonnie time off so he could bring you."

"Don't you know you can't believe everything you hear," I admonish her, attempting to get her off the subject. I don't want to believe that Damon wanted to come on this trip with me. I'm not into the business of getting my hopes up where Damon is concerned.

"I think he likes you, as much as he doesn't want to," she says quietly.

"Can we please not talk about it?" I ask with a sigh. Which she happily obliges and launches into an in-depth analysis of her weekend spent with an up and coming star, Tyler Lockwood. She's all googly-eyed and smitten; it's cute. So I lean back and listen to her stories while she does what she does best - make me pretty.

Two hours later, there is a knock at the door and Caroline opens it to reveal Damon looking illegally gorgeous in a gray suit with a white shirt and black tie. I'm almost offended that he looks so good. He and Caroline exchange pleasantries and then he walks into the living area of my hotel room. His eyes find me and his jaw visibly drops. That gives me so much more pleasure than it should.

I'm clad in a cream, lacy Alexander McQueen mini dress. It fits like a glove and offsets my skin tone perfectly. I'm rocking sky-high purple Jimmy Choo sandals, my hair is falling in waves around my shoulders and my makeup is smoky-eyed perfection. Caroline outdid herself. She really did. She also swung some Neil Lane earrings and a necklace.

Damon clears his throat awkwardly and gives me one more once-over with his ice blue gaze that I can feel all the way to my painted toenails. "You look amazing," he says seriously and I try not to melt all over.

"You look mighty fine yourself, Salvatore," I say cheekily and he gives me one of his world-famous smirks. As we walk out of the room, I try not to notice Caroline giving me a very pointed look.

* * *

Damon doesn't leave my side once as we walk the red carpet. We pose for pictures together, we sign autographs together, we even do interviews together. I'm thankful for the latter, because some of those interviewers ask questions that I don't know the answers to, yet Damon answers them flawlessly. But I don't feel like being babysat, because I'm pretty sure that's the only reason he came with me. The thought infuriates me; I could've managed this alone. So I try to stay as far away from him as possible, which is hard since he insists on being glued to my side with a constant hand on the small of my back. This is doing nothing to dispel the rumors of the two of us dating. As much as I resent feeling like a small child, I can't help imagining what it'd be like if I was here with Damon as my date. It's dangerous territory, but I can't help it.

The show is entertaining and I find myself hoping that they'll ask me to perform some day. I meet a lot of wonderful, kind celebrities. People I've admired and looked up to my entire life. This is all a dream come true. After it's all over, we end up at the beach and I'm feeling overwhelmed, yet totally energized walking around with my heels in one hand and my toes in the sand.

"Where does your inspiration come from?" Damon asks suddenly. He's been quiet since we left the show, so I'm surprised that he's even made an effort to start a conversation.

His question transports me. I think of my relationship with Matt Donovan in high school. We had been best friends since we were little and it seemed natural for us to try to be more. He was a year older and when he left for college, it shattered my heart and that is when I wrote my song, "Tim McGraw". Many songs came from our relationship. We were so young and every moment of our relationship was beautiful.

Then I think of college. I was a serial dater and I was determined to get rid of my virginity. It seemed like such a burden at the time, like my own personal scarlet letter. Yet every time I came close to losing it, I'd back out because it never felt right. Then I realize that I was allowed to hold out. No one could tell me when I was supposed to lose it, so I embraced it and stuck to just fooling around here and there.

Then I realize that Damon is still waiting for my answer. "Experience mostly," I finally say. "Other times my songs are just fantasies in my head or stories from my friends."

He ponders this a moment before he speaks again. "But where is the passion? The sex? The anger? All of your songs are these fantasies or stories from your friends, but never the raw, uncensored emotions."

"I guess I haven't found anyone worth those emotions," I answer simply and our eyes connect and I know he heard the unspoken until now.

We walk in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts.

"Why did you stop making music?" I ask suddenly. I don't know where my sudden burst of courage comes from since the last time I asked that question he totally shut me down.

He is quiet for a long while and I don't think he's going to answer the question, so I just wait for him to change the subject.

"When love is your inspiration, you find it hard to write when you no longer believe it exists." His honest answer totally disarms me. I'm sure I'm openly gaping at him, but I can't help it.

"That's the most depressing thing I've ever heard," I voice my thoughts aloud. How can he tell me I need to dig deeper for inspiration, when he won't even take his own advice?

Instead of responding to me, he changes the subject. "I have a place I want to show you."

"Okay," I agree and decide to let our conversation go. He's given me more in one sentence than he has the entire time I've known him. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

Ten minutes later, we pull up to a dive bar. I send him a questioning look and he sends a just-trust-me one back. The inside looks nothing like the outside. Sure it's run down, but in a well-loved way. The small tables are all close together and the lighting is low, but it's cozy. There are posters and pictures and everything else covering the walls and across the room there is a small stage with a piano and a microphone, just tempting me to get up and perform.

"Find a seat and I'll get us drinks," he says close to my ear and traitorous goosebumps erupt on my flesh.

I nod mutely and sift through the crowd to find a table for optimal viewing. Just as I settle on a perfect table smack in the middle of the room, Damon sets a beer in front of me and takes his own seat. As the next performer takes the stage, he shrugs out of his suit jacket, loosens his tie, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. Fuck me - he looks so hot like that.

We sip our beers and listen to performer after performer. Some are phenomenal, others not so much, but the audience is supportive nonetheless. They cheer and whistle after ever performance. I steal glances at Damon every once in a while. He's so enraptured and he cheers right along with everyone else. It's nice to see him be a man rather than the multi-platinum recording artist and producer I see almost every day.

"We have a pleasant surprise for you all tonight," a voice booms over the speakers. "We have a Miss Elena Gilbert in the house tonight and a source tells me that we can guilt her into giving us a performance."

My heart stops. How did they know I was here? I glance at Damon. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and I know I've found the tattletale.

The room erupts into encouraging applause and I have no choice but to oblige. I give Damon one more death glare before I rise from my seat. I mentally go through my repertoire of songs. I decide on one that I haven't even played for Damon yet, because it matches the feel of the room tonight. It's a newer one I've written, one that I've hidden in my desk at home so Damon can't find it, because, yes, it's about him.

I settle in front of the piano and adjust the microphone to where I want it.

"Thank you guys," I say to the audience and I realize that this place has a balcony. There are twice as many people here than I thought. I take a deep breath and remember Damon's words from earlier today. This is what I know. This is what I'm good at. "This is a song that I wrote recently and y'all are the first people I'm playing it for. I hope you like it."

Silence falls on the room as everyone waits for me to play. I take another deep breath and let my fingers dance across the piano keys.

_Something always brings me back to you._

_It never takes too long._

_No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone._

_You hold me without touch._

_You keep me without chains._

_I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain._

_Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity._

_Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be._

_But you're on to me and all over me._

I let the music build and my fingers hit the keys harder and harder with the emotion this song is evoking in me and in the audience. I can feel their energy and it only urges me on. So I give it everything.

_I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're everything I think I need here on the ground._

_But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go._

_The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down_

I hold the note with everything I have. My lungs are dying for air, but I push through, wanting the audience to feel everything I felt while I wrote this.

_Keeping me down_

_You're on to me, on to me, and all over..._

_Something always brings me back to you._

_It never takes too long._

The music ends and the room is just silent. I could hear a pin drop if the blood wasn't rushing in my ears so loudly. I wait and wait for them to react and still nothing. Then one person starts clapping and slowly everyone joins in. Then as one, they all rise. Holy shit, they are giving me a standing ovation. I almost want to cry, but instead I smile and thank them before I scurry off the stage. As I weave through the crowd, everyone shakes my hand or pats me on the shoulder and I find myself wishing I could just give the whole audience a group hug.

Damon's face is unreadable as I get back to the table, but he's standing with his jacket in one hand, clearly ready to leave.

As we step outside, he slings his suit jacket over my shoulders. It smells like him and I make sure he's not looking before I inhale deeply. We walk together around to the back of the building. As we enter the alleyway at the side of the bar, he stops suddenly.

"Why did you write that song?" he asks quietly, as I keep walking ahead of him. It stops me in my tracks.

"Do you really want the answer to that question?" I reply as I slowly turn to face him. The alley is dark and I can only make out his silhouette.

I hear him curse and then I see him come at me. It all happens so fast, I have no time to react when he wraps one arm around my waist and buries the other hand in my hair. Holy shit. I hold onto his biceps just to avoid getting swept away in this wave of passion. Then his lips are on mine and I'm sure I'm seeing fireworks. His lips are so soft, yet insistent against my own. I melt into his kiss and my hands take up residence in his soft hair. The hair that has been begging to be touched. I'm lost in the sensation of him. All I can smell is Damon, all I can feel is Damon, all I can think of is Damon. If I thought just his proximity was intoxicating, his kiss is addicting. I feel his tongue trace the seam of my lips and they open on their own accord to let him in. We stumble backwards and I feel the cool brick of the building on my back. His whole body is pressed against mine and he's so solid and warm and better than everything I ever fantasized about. My tongue battles with his and his hands take to exploring the curves along my sides.

All at once, it's over and I want to cry. He pulls back wearing a self-satisfied smirk before he rights his clothing, smoothes his hair and continues walking toward the parking lot almost as if nothing happened. And then there is me, hair a mess, panting like I just ran a marathon. How in the world can he be so unaffected?

I'm left standing there totally dumbfounded.

Holy shit.

Damon Salvatore just kissed me.

* * *

**That. Just. Happened.**

**Next up is the trip to New York, y'all can only imagine the things that'll go down there, eh?**

**The songs from this chapter are:**

**Fearless - Taylor Swift**

**Gravity - Sara Bareilles**

**Hey, look a new review button... take it for a test drive. I dare you. ;)**


	7. Fearless

**Holy thank you for all your amazing reviews! The last chapter set a review record thanks to all of you. I guess y'all liked the kiss...? ;)**

**Giant thanks to my beta Jenn who is amazing. Really. She is. **

**Another GIANT thanks to Emma for reading and rereading and rereading various sections of this chapter. And then rereading them again. She's the BEST.**

**Also, the most anticipated cameo makes it's debut in this chapter. Just for Mirna and Sandra. **

**Okay, are we ready for NEW YORK?**

* * *

I settle into my New York hotel room the following evening. We arrived only an hour ago, but since I have to be up by 3:00 am tomorrow, there is no time to explore. The four-hour flight was torture. Damon took every opportunity to not speak to me. All morning he was on the phone, moving luggage, speaking to security, confirming my appearance for tomorrow morning, and then on the flight he pulled out an iPod. I wasn't even aware he owned one, let alone listened to it. He sure didn't need it on our flight to L.A. When we landed at JFK Airport and we were swarmed by the paps again, he stayed close, but offered no words or gestures of comfort.

He clearly regrets kissing me.

I want to scream, I'm so frustrated. I'd be perfectly fine pretending it never happened, so the cold shoulder routine is already getting old. Thankfully, I'm in my own hotel suite. Which is right across from Damon's, but at least I'm not forced to watch him ignore me. So instead, I stand at my hotel window for almost an hour and just stare down and watch the bustle of Times Square below before I give in and go to sleep.

When my alarm goes off at 2:30 am, I am not a happy girl. But I roll out of bed, knowing that today's performance is a rare opportunity to have this early in my music career. Thankfully, I am not responsible for getting myself ready. All I have to do is shower. And boy do I make it worthwhile. I stand under the spray for a good fifteen minutes before I even start washing my hair and forty five minutes later, I'm dressed with damp hair and ready to go.

I say nothing to Damon when I see him in the lobby, looking sinfully gorgeous in black boots, blue jeans, a black button up, and - fuck me - a black cowboy hat with a cup of coffee in each hand. He holds it out to me with a small smile and I think he is feeling bad for the way he's been ignoring me.

Well tough shit, Salvatore.

I take the cup without meeting his eyes and I walk off before he can try and catch up. Maybe I'm being immature, but at 3:30 in the morning, I really couldn't care less. Our driver opens the door for me when I hit the sidewalk outside and I climb right in and slide across the seats.

Good Morning, America goes by flawlessly. Everyone on set is so nice and all the anchors are respectful and supportive. The crowd out in Rockefeller Plaza is loud and they all know the words to my song. I leave the GMA set feeling pretty damn proud of myself. Until I realize that I have to spend the rest of the day with Damon as my tour guide. And it's only 8:00 am. I'm so fucked.

Despite my less-than-enthusiastic tour guide, New York City is amazing. We explore Central Park and Strawberry Fields - well I explore, Damon sits on a bench with the body guard.. We stroll 5th Avenue and I spend way too much time in Tiffany's. We visit Macy's and I take a ride on the wooden escalator. We also go to a matinée of Wicked, which absolutely blows my mind. We end the day atop the Empire State Building, gazing out onto the twinkling lights of the city.

The city is magical. It's exactly like it is in the movies and in photos. Now I understand why there have been so many songs written about it. Everything is amazing, the people, the buildings, the shopping. I spend the day so enthralled I don't even notice the paparazzi that's been following us around all day. I could tell Damon was trying to be friendly and help me experience the city, but his voice today was always so strained, his small smiles just a little too forced.

We walk through the hotel doors together and instead of heading toward the elevators with me, he veers off to the bar. Go figure. Twelve hours straight spent with someone you despise definitely calls for a strong drink. I roll my eyes and try to get a hold of the hurt wanting to well up in my chest. No, I can't be that girl. I refuse.

So without a second glance at Damon's retreating back, I step into the nearest elevator and head to my room, getting more and more pissed off as I go. How dare he kiss me and then just ignore me as if I'm a leper. It's not like I'm the one who backed him into a wall and pressed myself against him. I didn't ask to be kissed. And I sure as hell didn't want to like it.

I pace the length of my hotel room for about 45 minutes before I hear his heavy steps come down the hall. Being so attuned to him only fuels my building anger so before I can stop myself, I say a big fat fuck-it-all to myself and march out into the hallway.

I was right. Although he's not shit-faced drunk, he's lost the cowboy hat and I can tell he's putting a lot of effort into every slow and measured step he takes. It takes a minute, but he notices me and stops dead in his tracks. Tension fills the few feet between us as we just stare at each other for who knows how long.

"We leave early tomorrow, you should be asleep," he says, sounding exasperated. Of all the things he could say to me. Before I can retort, he turns and heads to his door.

"Typical," I scoff under my breath, but apparently the alcohol has no effect on his hearing because he wheels around and pins me with a glare so fast that I'm surprised he didn't fall over.

"Are you going to keep pretending that kiss didn't happen?" I barrel on before he can try to run away again.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" he warns and turns again toward his door. Seeing him try to walk away again infuriates me. All I can see is red and my nails are biting into my palm because I'm squeezing my hands into fists.

"That's just fine," I snap and I'm satisfied to see that he's frozen where he is standing. "Just run away from everything you aren't man enough to face."

I see the muscles in his back tense. Oh yeah, I just called him out. There is absolute silence in the hallway and it seems to stretch on for hours. He's made no move to leave, but he hasn't turned around either. I can almost see him getting worked up and I'm just waiting for the explosion. I know that maybe I should run far, far away from it, but it's like a car wreck, I just can't look away.

Then he snaps. He turns on the spot, closes the distance between us, takes my face in his hands, and presses his lips to mine. Holy shit, this is not what I expected, but I'm not one to complain. He tastes like bourbon and just like he did last night when he kissed me. Once again, I'm pinned between a wall and Damon and the nonexistent space between us is practically on fire. I kiss him with the same passion and anger that he's kissing me. I thread my fingers in his hair and pull until I elicit the sexiest growl from him. His hands skate up and down my sides as his lips trail down my neck.

Holy hell, is that me breathing so loud? Yes, yes it is, but it's almost hard to hear over my pounding heart.

My head drops back against the wall as his lips dip down into my cleavage. I feel a rush of warmth go straight to my core and all I want is to just crawl under his skin. I pull his lips back to mine and run my tongue along the seam of his lips. He opens up for me without hesitation and I plunge my tongue into the warmth of his mouth to tangle with his. His breath comes out in a sharp hiss when I trap his bottom lip between my teeth. The sound goes straight to my lady parts and I nearly convulse. His hands drop from my hips to my ass and he pulls my hips forward to grind against his. I'm sure if I wasn't leaning against a wall, I'd be on the ground feeling his erection rub my center just right.

Just then I realize that we are getting our bump-and-grind on in the middle of a hallway where anyone could see us, but apparently Damon realizes this too because as he's laying more open mouthed kisses on my neck, he mumbles all husky-like, "Where's your card key?"

"Back right pocket," I breathe and his hand immediately responds and locates the key card. Without his lips leaving my skin, he successfully unlocks my hotel room door and pulls me in with him only to slam my back against the door after it has closed. My hands decide to come alive at that moment. They move to the front of his shirt and slip the buttons through the holes in record time. My hands run up his smooth chest and push the fabric off his shoulders. I take a moment to appreciate the creation that is Damon Salvatore's chest. The skin is so warm and soft, yet his muscles are like stone.

I pull away from him momentarily when I feel his hands at the hem of my shirt. When I lift my arms, he complies easily, whipping the fabric up and over my head and then throwing it somewhere unimportant. Before the shirt even leaves his hand, his lips are on mine again. His hands go right back to my ass and he lifts me easily. Wrapping my legs tight around his waist while my mouth kisses and nips its way down his neck and shoulder, he carries me into the bedroom. Somehow, I lose my bra on the way, so when he drops me onto the unmade bed and starts on the button of my jeans, I'm feeling pretty fucking exposed. He makes quick work of my pants and my underwear, ripping them both down my legs with one mighty pull. His gaze is intense as it takes me in, sending another wave of heat through me. Holy shit, I want this man.

I reach up, lock my hands around his neck and pull him down onto the bed on top of me. His bare chest presses against my breasts and the sensation of skin on skin is addicting. I could definitely get used to this. Especially the feeling of his mouth kissing and licking and biting its way down my neck, shoulders and then down my chest. The anticipation is almost enough to make me self-destruct. When his warm mouth seals itself around one of my nipples, I nearly do. My whole body bows off the bed and I'm sure whatever came out of my mouth was loud and needy because I can feel him smile against my skin. He pays homage to both breasts, taking turns working them over with his mouth and his hands.

When his mouth moves lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses across my stomach, my heart starts pounding even harder in my chest. In all my fooling around with other guys, never have I let anyone's mouth go past my breasts. Somewhere in my mind, I realize there is no stopping Damon from doing whatever the hell he wants. My breathing is coming in and out in ragged draws and releases. When his teeth scrape against my hipbone, my fingers thread through his hair, desperate to hold onto something to keep me from floating away.

When his tongue dips between my legs, I swear I see sparks go off behind my eyelids. He's not even fazed because he continues relentlessly. Fuck, that's one talented tongue. It swirls and flicks and licks until my core is so tight, I nearly scream. With one last expert flick, I'm gone. My release washes through me hard and fast. I feel like a caged animal finally set free. I'm dimly aware that I'm death-gripping his hair, but my convulsing body doesn't give a fuck. When I finally drift down from my high, he's already shucked his jeans and is getting one huge erection in position. I spread my legs wider and tilt my hips up instinctively in a silent invitation, which he gladly takes and sinks into me easily thanks to his expert mouth and tongue. He pushes in slowly and I feel a sharp catch of pain. Well, there goes my virginity and I'm not going to miss it one bit. He's finally seated inside me to the hilt and the sensation is strange. Good, but strange.

"God, you're so tight," he pants and I feel a tingle of satisfaction that he's as affected as I am.

"Thank you?" I reply just as breathlessly. Because really, what are you supposed to say to that?

He lets out a grunt/chuckle as he drops onto his elbows and presses his lips against mine. I can't wrap my mind around how right this feels. I always hear horror stories about how much it hurts the first time, but this feeling is glorious, especially when he slowly retreats and then pushes back in. My nails dig into his back when he slides home again. This is what I've been missing all this time? Then again, I already knew that nothing would be as good as this. No one would be as good as Damon. No one would be so right.

His slow, deep thrusts start to become a little more urgent and a little less coordinated and that tightening deep inside me begins once more. I can feel Damon breathing on my neck and it's so fucking erotic. My hips meet him thrust for thrust, as he gets closer to his release. I drop my hands to his ass and dig my nails into the perfect skin that I'm sure covers them. He moans so loudly that I nearly come right then and there. His hand slips down my body until it reaches my center. It only takes a few gentle tweaks of his fingers and one great drive of his hips and I fall apart the same moment he does. I'm too far gone to register anything but the intense pleasure and the fact that Damon is still inside me.

We are both gasping for air as we come back to earth. He pulls out of me and flops onto his back on the bed beside me. I can feel something warm and wet between my legs and I thank the heavens that I started a birth control regime back when I was in college, just in case.

We lay there in silence for a while and once I catch my breath I move to sit up further on the pillows. Oh yeah, that's going to be sore in the morning. I look down at my legs in the dim light from the lamp I left on and then I see it. There is blood on the sheets. Granted there isn't a lot, but it's there and there is no question where it came from. Damon must have noticed at the same time because I hear him curse softly. I glance over at him and I'm totally mortified. There are streaks of blood on him too. Again, not a lot, but we both know where it's from.

"Please tell me you weren't a virgin," Damon says and he's clearly trying to rein in his temper.

I don't know how to respond to that question so I choose to say nothing.

"Fuck, Elena. Shit, and you even tried to tell me," he growls and I turn to look at him. He's dropped his head in his hands. I am suddenly very aware that we are having a conversation totally naked. I contemplate covering up, but he's already seen everything at this point. "God, this is all so wrong."

Pain slices through me hearing him say it was wrong. This was the only time in my life that being with someone ever felt right.

"I'm so fucking disgusted," he hisses to himself, but I can hear it loud and clear and it hurts like a bitch.

He must have seen my wince out of the corner of his eye because the next second he's turning to me with eyes full of pity and I feel like throwing up. All over him. I mean it's not like I could be any more mortified.

"God, Elena." His voice is quiet and full of remorse and I want none of it.

I pull my knees up to my chest, hoping that if I'm small enough that I'll just disappear. "Can you leave now?" I say in a voice that's as small as I wish I was.

"I didn't..." he pauses, trying to find words. "I meant..."

"Can you just go?" I ask, my voice harsh now. I really don't want to hear any more from him. God, he looks so ashamed and now it's just pissing me off. "I want to wash you and this night off me," I snap. That seems to get him the message because he finally rises from the bed and gathers his clothes. I refuse to meet his eyes as he pulls his pants up and arranges himself inside.

I'm trying to keep my breathing normal and blink back the onset of tears that I know are coming, but as he whispers my name, they come falling down my cheeks. I look away quickly and wipe them off with my hand. I studiously stare at the wall until I hear him sigh and move into the other room for a moment before I hear the door to my hotel room click shut.

I finally let the tears have free reign on my face. Never in my life have I felt like this. I feel dirty and cheap. Like a whore. I never pictured myself losing my virginity with all the hearts and flowers and shit, all I wanted was for it to feel right. Never did I imagine that something that felt so right could make me feel this devastated.

I pull myself together enough to get into the shower. I turn the faucet all the way to hot hoping I can sanitize myself and then maybe I'd feel better. I stand under the scalding spray and viciously scrub every inch of my skin, hoping to wash Damon and his touch off of it. I wash meticulously, running over every limb twice, three times, yet it still isn't good enough. God, he's even inside me. That thought sends me into a hysterical spiral. I sink down to the tile floor and let it all out. I cry and sob and howl until I can't breath, until all I can feel is pain. When the water starts to run cold I finally pick myself up and shut the water off. I'm in a daze as I dry off and walk into the bedroom.

I'm so numb that it's easy to call the front desk and ask for a new set of sheets.

I dress in my pajamas and change the sheets when they arrive, then lie down on the bed.

I know that I will be getting no sleep tonight, so I turn to the only thing I have, the only way I know how to deal with my emotions.

I write.

* * *

**I bet you all didn't see that coming! Yeah, that just happened. **

**Poor Elena. And I bet you all want to slap Damon right about now.**

**You can follow me on twitter and we can become friends and fangirl and stuff. rachellebelle08**

**Hey, reviews are love. They really really are. **


	8. Natural Disaster

**YOU GUYS! I got a whopping 53 reviews for the last chapter alone. ****53****! That's an insane amount! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I can't say it enough! Your support means the world.**

**Thanks to Jenn (elvishgrrl) again for being my absolutely awesome beta and for being an amazing author as well. I'm totally addicted to her story, Find the River. READ IT.**

**Also to Emma for letting me bother her to the wee hours of the morning about this and sending countless docs and sections to her. I LURVE YOU.**

**Okay, okay, on with the story!**

* * *

Pain is the only thing I register when my alarm goes off. Sleep didn't come easily for me, but after writing an entire song in only a few hours, I finally fell into a fitful sleep.

I feel pain everywhere: behind my eyes, in my pelvis, and in my heart. I don't dwell much on the latter; it only makes things worse. I never imagined losing my virginity would be so painful - emotionally and physically.

I try to push that from my mind as I move around my room packing my bag and getting dressed, but with every move I make, I'm reminded of what happened last night. God, I can still feel him on top of me, inside me, and it makes me sick. How could I have been so stupid? He was obviously drunk. I should have stopped him. I should have said something. But instead, I let myself get swept up in him because I wanted him so badly and some hopeful part of me thought he wanted me the same way. Clearly I was wrong. I can still see the look on his face as he eyed the blood on the both of us and I can still hear his utter loathing when he announced how disgusted with himself he was.

I shake my head, as if that might clear the memories from last night. I zip up my suitcase and will myself not to cry. I refuse to give Damon Salvatore any more tears. As I roll my suitcase toward the door, I realize that I'll be coming face to face with Damon. And I'll have to fly in a plane with him. Next to him. At least the flight is only an hour and a half. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to walk out my hotel room door. I know I'm going to have to face him sooner or later, and I figure I may as well do it sooner. I refuse to appear weak and affected in front of him.

I push the door open and step into the hallway just as he is doing the same. What timing. He freezes when my door slams shut. I see him take a deep breath and then his eyes meet mine. He looks terrible. As if he didn't sleep at all. I tell myself not to feel any pity for him, that he's probably just feeling the effects of a bad hangover. I stand my ground and look him straight in the eyes and to my satisfaction he's the one who looks away first. Before he does, though, his eyes flash with an emotion that I have never seen from him. Guilt.

I push the thought away, hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and set off down the hall.

"Elena." I hear him call my name from behind me and I hear the wheels of his suitcase creaking as his footsteps get closer. God, I so don't want to hear anything he has to say right now. I may have been brave enough to give him the stare down, but if I'm forced to talk about what happened with him, I will be reduced to tears.

So I studiously ignore him as I jump into an elevator right as it's closing. Perfect timing. I catch the look at his face just as the elevator doors close and it begins to descend to the ground floor. I know this won't keep me from him for long, but there is something to be said for small miracles.

I bolt out of the elevator as soon as the doors open once again. I'm halfway across the lobby when Damon's voice echoes across the marble floors. He just won't give up! Does he really want me to feel even more shitty? I guess so, because he's calling my name again and this time he's right behind me.

"What?" I snap as I turn on my heel to face him. He pulls up short, clearly not expecting me to acknowledge him.

"I didn't mean what I said last night, not like that," he explains quickly. He obviously knows that I'm not going to give him much time.

"Are you trying to make me feel worse about myself?" I whisper, my voice full of the hurt I've been repressing all morning – because, really, no one could make me feel this awful by accident.

"God, no! I... that's not what I'm trying to do," he says, sputtering over his words and running a worried hand through his hair.

Tears prick my eyes. I don't want his pity. I really don't want anything from him any more.

"When we get back to Nashville, you are my producer and nothing else. You won't speak to me unless it's about my music. You won't accompany me on trips. You won't leave ridiculous gifts in my apartment. We are co-workers and that is all," I hiss at him. He's clearly taken aback by my cold tone. His face turns into a mask of hurt and regret, a mask that is just that - a mask. It's not real. None of it is.

"Elena-"

"I'm just giving you what you so obviously want. You won't have to worry about having any more pity sex with your greenie musician," I continue on, not letting him get a word in, because I really don't want to hear any more of his bullshit.

That must placate him because his mouth opens and closes several times, unable to form any words. So I turn and walk away before he can respond. This is not going to be a pleasant flight. I contemplate the odds of switching seats with someone so I don't have to be right next to him. But I decide that's borderline immature.

I hand my bags to the driver and mentally prepare myself for hell.

* * *

I walk into the studio the next day and I'm a woman on a mission. I had a long, quiet flight yesterday to decide what to do and what I would say. I walk straight to Alaric's office with my speech prepared.

"Elena, hi!" Ric rises from his chair when I burst through the doors. He takes one look at my face and his smile immediately drops off his face before he asks, "What happened?"

What happened? Images of what happened with Damon this weekend flash through my mind and threaten to bring tears to my eyes. I take a deep breath and blink them back quickly before my eyes meet Alaric's once more.

"I want a new producer," I say, and my voice comes out strong, which pleases me immensely.

Ric's eyes narrow as he sinks into his chair. I take my cues from him and sit myself on one of the armchairs across from his desk.

"What did Damon do?" he asks warily as if he's afraid to hear the answer.

Oh I don't know, maybe he kissed me in an alleyway then ignored me the next day. Maybe he got drunk and slept with me. Maybe he found out I was a virgin and then expressed how disgusted he was. I feel like that's a sufficient list, but of course, I'm not going to tell Ric any of that.

"He didn't do anything," I lie. "I just feel like I'd be better suited with a different producer."

"I don't like being lied to, Elena," he shoots me a pointed look; he's not angry, but he's not particularly pleased either. I have a feeling his annoyance is directed at Damon more than me. "But I know that whatever it was, it had to have been pretty bad for you to come to me like this."

I feel incredibly pathetic, but tears fill my eyes without my consent and I have to close them and breathe so they'll pass. God, I'm feeling pretty fucking embarrassed, crying like a total wimp in front of my record label owner.

"Shit," I hear him curse under his breath. "I'm going to kill him."

I give him a small smile as I desperately try to reign in my emotions. I feel like I'm being so unprofessional because I can't seem to get them in check. I hate looking weak. I hate being weak. I especially hate that a guy is the reason I feel like this - that Damon is the reason I feel like this. I've never been this kind of girl before. I've always had a handle on my feelings and I've always been able to keep them in line.

"I sure hope you at least got some good writing material," he says, clearly trying to lighten the mood. To my surprise - and probably his - it works.

"I'm a step ahead of you on that one," I reply, not bothering to suppress the small smile that is now tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"You've already got one started?" he asks, his eyebrows skyrocketing in disbelief.

"I already have one finished," I reply, my smile only growing. I am really becoming comfortable with Ric. He always knows what to say or when not to say a thing.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's hear it," he said excitedly, gesturing to the door. I jump out of my chair and head out the door and straight for my writing room.

We settle into our seats - Ric in a plush armchair and me on the couch - and I pluck a few random chords on the guitar to warm up my fingers. I take a deep breath and glance at him and he's looking at me with pride and everything but pity.

I take strength from his unwavering support and let my fingers glide across the strings of the guitar.

_"Am I another casualty?_

_In the battle you're fighting?_

_You're your own worse enemy,_

_At war with yourself, but you can't see."_

I glance up to see Damon standing just outside the open door, listening intently. His eyes are fixed on something down the hall and, as if I called his name, they snap to me and hold my stare. I'm caught up in him - in singing this to him. It's strangely liberating. I feel like I'm showing him that I refuse to let him affect me, that I won't show my weakness.

_"And I can't stand to watch,_

_Your comet coming fast,_

_Everywhere you go it seems that lighting strikes and then you crash,_

_I don't know how you do it,_

_It always ends the same,_

_Everywhere you go it seems lightning strikes but there's no rain, no rain."_

When I look up again Damon is gone and Alaric is beaming, clearly smelling another hit.

"You get better and better with every song you write," he tells me, pride dripping off his words. It makes me smile that, despite what Damon did to me, I've come out on top.

"Tell you what," Ric continues, "Why don't you rehearse with the band for the rest of the week so we can start recording next week and I'll figure out what to do about getting you a producer, yeah?"

"Okay," I agree, because I cannot wait to have Damon Salvatore out of my life.

* * *

"You did WHAT?" Caroline screeches, her voice an octave higher than the legal limit. Seriously, there are deaf people in Africa that heard her.

After a long day of rehearsals with my new band, I immediately called Caroline to arrange a girl's night. Her excited squeal was all I needed and an hour later, we are all sitting around Bonnie's coffee table with a half-demolished pizza between us and a bottle of wine open and flowing freely into their glasses - I still have to drive home.

"God, Caroline, could you have said that any louder?" Bonnie hisses and swats Caroline on the arm, who cries out in pain dramatically before she turns the attention back to me. "Okay, details. Now."

So I spill because frankly, I can't keep it all bottled up anymore or else I'm going to scream. I'm also in no position to pass up friends.

After all is said and done, they are both staring at me with full on girl-power outrage.

"Bastard."

"Mother fucker."

They curse him in unison.

"So what are you going to do now?" Caroline asks gently.

"I asked Alaric for a new producer. As much as I'd love not giving him the satisfaction of affecting me, I can't work with him. Not after what's happened," I reply. "Honestly? I never want to see his face again."

They both nod furiously in agreement.

"Damon is a monster that's incapable of loving anyone but himself," Bonnie says vehemently.

"Bonnie! It's not his fault that Katherine ruined him," Caroline defends.

Before Bonnie can fight back, which I can see she is gearing up to do, I jump in, "It doesn't matter. I'm done with him."

They both give me you-go-girl looks and just like that, we're finished talking about Damon. It felt good to unload on them; I never realized how badly I missed having close girlfriends until now.

* * *

I feel much better after our girl's night. Empowered almost. I settle into my car and just as I get ready to pull out of my parking space, my phone starts ringing. Thinking that it's probably Caroline or Bonnie telling me I forgot something, I answer without confirming who it is.

"Elena?" The slurred voice on the other end of the line freezes me to my seat. Oh fuck, what does he want? I glance at the clock and notice it's almost 2:00 am. What in the world would he need from me at this hour?

"What?" I snap. I really don't have the patience to deal with him. I just want to go home and sleep before I have to be at the studio tomorrow morning.

The line is silent for several moments. It's so long that I start to check the screen to be sure we're still connected until I hear him sigh heavily into the phone.

"You don't want me," his voice is hopeless.

"Damon," I sigh because 2:00 am is really not the time to get into this. "Why are you calling me?"

"I need your help," he slurs.

"What do you need?" I ask, totally exasperated at this point.

"You." The single word hits straight to my heart, but I remind myself that he's drunk and most likely only calling for a ride.

"Damon, where are you?" I ask, totally frustrated that he still has such an emotional hold on me. I listen as he slowly describes where he is. Despite the fact that I haven't been in Nashville all that long, I recognize the bar as the same one my birthday party was at.

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

I take off in the direction of the bar with my brains scattered all over the interior of my car. What is wrong with me? Why couldn't I just say no and tell him to call a cab? Hell, I'd be better off if I'd just called him a cab myself.

A mantra of I'm-so-fucked runs through my head the entire drive, and when I pull up to my destination, the mantra is on full blast.

I scan the room the moment I walk in because there are some guys giving me the look over and I want nothing more than to get the hell out of here.

I see Damon over at the bar nursing a tall glass of water, clearly having been cut off by the bartender. I waste no time marching over to him.

"Alright, let's go," I say, pulling him into a standing position. He sways a little and I catch him around the waist. Damn, he smells good, even with the aroma of hard liquor coming off of him.

I shake my head quickly and put my game-face on, happily locking my emotions away in a steel safe in the back of my mind.

"Why'd you ask Ric for a new producer?" he asks as I walk him through the bar and to my car, my arm firmly around his waist, his arm around my shoulders, and his weight leaning heavily into my side.

Shit. I so do not want to get into this right now.

"We can talk about this later." Or never.

Before he can respond, I open up my car door and all but shove him down onto the seat.

"Buckle," I command him with a solid point of my finger and mercifully, he actually complies without complaint. I may like this version of drunk Damon.

By the time I get into the driver's seat, he's desperately trying to hold onto consciousness. It's almost cute and I almost smile.

Almost.

That is until I remember exactly what he did and said to me in New York. Nope, no smiling here.

Damon is out cold when I pull into the parking garage below my apartment complex. Considering that I don't know where he lives, I really have no other options; he's staying with me. I want to laugh at how fucked up this all is turning out to be, but it's really not funny.

"Damon," I call his name as I gently shake his shoulder. I'm standing outside my car with the passenger door wide open. If he doesn't wake up, he's sleeping in the car because there is no fucking way I can carry him up to my apartment.

"Damon," I repeat his name a little louder with a more forceful push, but he still doesn't stir.

"Damon!" I give him one good, hard shake and he finally cracks his eyelids and stares at me indifferently.

"Get out of the car," I instruct him and again, he follows without complaint. A girl could get used to this.

I drag him across the parking garage, into the elevator, and finally into my apartment. Due to my lack of seating, I'm forced to sit him on my bed while I make up the couch for him to sleep on.

"Just stay right there, okay?" I tell him before I turn to get him some water and painkillers because Lord knows he's going to need all the help he can get to battle his inevitable hangover.

As I take a step toward the door, his hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist. I turn back to see that Damon no longer sits on my bed. I'm now looking at a vulnerable little boy. The look in his blue eyes is heartbreaking and I have no idea what happened to put that look there.

"Kat, I didn't kill the baby, I swear." His words are slurred, but I hear him loud and clear.

Kat? My heart stops. He must be referring to his ex-girlfriend.

Oh shit.

"No, Damon, not Kat. It's Elena," I say as gently as I can as I pry his hand from around my wrist. Suddenly his eyes flick to mine and I see recognition flash in them.

"'Lena?" His voice breaks and it nearly breaks me. He sounds so sad and his eyes darken from whatever pain he's carrying with him. "I'm so sorry."

Sorry? Sorry for what? Calling me Kat?

"It's okay, just lay here and I'll get you some water," I reply because I cannot get out of this room soon enough.

"No, s'not okay," he mumbles as I turn away and the sound is so full of grief and regret. I have to remind myself that he's drunk and he doesn't know what he's saying.

I hurry and get him a water bottle and some Advil, then I stand over him like a fucking mother hen making sure he downs the pills and most of the water. When I'm satisfied, I return to the living room to make up a bed for him on the couch. And I make a damn good makeshift bed. I step back and admire my handiwork. The fitted sheet is carefully tucked into the cushions with another sheet on top with an Afghan my mother made me smoothed over it. And all in five minutes flat.

I return to my room only to find Damon out cold with his head against my pillows. In his sleep he looks so relaxed and much, much younger. I let out a sigh as I move to the foot of the bed and carefully remove his shoes. I can't help but stare at the beautiful man in my bed. His hair is a mess, no doubt from running his hands through it so many times, but it still looks perfectly imperfect.

I mentally shake myself and pull my gaze away from him. I can never go there again. I would never survive a second fallout. The first nearly shattered my heart, as much as I hate admitting to being so affected by a guy. I'm usually so strong. I'm usually the one doing the hurting. I'm usually the one turning the guys inside out. But it seems Damon has dramatically turned the tables on me. I'm so out of my element with him, which is why I'm shutting that door and firmly locking it, never to venture down that path ever again.

* * *

**You gotta love drunk!Damon.**

**The song is Natural Disaster by Alexz Johnson (Yep, it's totally from Instant Star. Anyone else love that show?)**

**You can follow me on twitter and we can become friends, yeah? rachellebelle08**

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**Alright, enough self-pimping. Thanks again for reading. Hey, there's a new review box! You should check it out, take it for a spin... ;) Your reviews mean the world. Really, they do.**


	9. Sex on Fire

**Hello again everyone!**

**Again I'll say: THANK YOU for your amazing reviews from the last chapter and all the other chapters. I would reply individually, but as I barely have time to work on my stories, I figured you guys would prefer that I work on my stories rather than write review replies... Am I right...?**

**Anyway, thanks to Jenn (elvishgrrl) for beta'ing this for me. She's awesome and her story FTR is coming to an end and it's SUCH a good one. Read it. **

**And thanks to Emma again for constantly reading the little chunks that I'm always sending her. You are amazing.**

**Also, there is a tiny mention of the famous cameo this chapter, so keep your eyes open. (I'm looking at you, Mirna and Sandra.)**

* * *

I wake with a jolt as if I'd been electrocuted. I hear the sound of a pan crash to the floor.

"Shit!"

I freeze. There is someone in my kitchen by the sound of cabinets opening and pots clinking together. And why am I on the couch? Images of the night before flash through my mind on blast and I realize that Damon Salvatore is in my apartment.

And by the smell of things, Damon Salvatore is cooking in my kitchen.

Aw, shit. I'm so fucked.

I decide that I'm going to have to face the day eventually, so I push myself into a sitting position and swing my legs over the side of the couch.

"Good morning." Damon's melodic voice floats into the living room. I turn and see him on the other side of the breakfast bar, his hair damp and - fuck - he's shirtless.

"I hope you don't mind, I used your shower. Don't worry, I didn't use any of your girlie products - I found a bar of soap under the sink," he explains, though his eyes are intently focused on whatever is cooking in front of him.

All I can do is stare. Who is this man and what did he do with Damon?

"Why don't you shower because it's going to be a few minutes before this is all done," he continues when I don't respond. I openly gape at him, not even bothering to hide it.

"Also, since my car's not here and you are driving into the studio anyway, looks like I'm riding with you," he chatters on and I'm still speechless. I'm 97% sure that I've entered "The Twilight Zone".

"Elena?" My name snaps me out of my stupor and I blink at him expectantly, still unable to form a coherent sentence. "Are you going to get ready or are you going to gawk at me all morning?" I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment from being caught. Damn him.

Wordlessly, I rise from the couch and head into my bathroom, locking my bedroom and bathroom doors behind me. I need all the protection and distance from him as possible.

What am I supposed to say to him? How am I supposed to sit through a whole meal with him and drive him to work? What was he referring to last night when he said he didn't kill his and Katherine's baby? I didn't even know she ever got pregnant. Granted, there isn't a whole lot I know about that particular relationship or about Damon in general.

As the steam fills my small bathroom, I try to calm my sporadic thoughts. I need a moment to myself, but that's proving difficult with the knowledge that Damon is half naked in my kitchen.

I shower, shave, blow dry, put on my make up, and dress in record time. I steady myself and finally unlock my door and leave the safety of my bedroom. When I emerge, Damon - now wearing his shirt, praise Jesus - is setting two heaping plates next to two glasses of orange juice on the table. As I approach, he looks up and gives me his world famous smirk.

"Perfect timing."

I give him a closed-mouth smile as I plop myself into a chair at the table and ogle my food. He's made pancakes with scrambled eggs, French toast, and a bowl of fresh fruit. He sure went all out.

"Are you going to say anything this morning?" he asks when he sits himself in front of his plate.

I think about that for a moment. I decide to go for honesty. So I respond, "I'm not really sure what to say."

He studies me for a few seconds before he shrugs and starts drizzling syrup on his pancakes. "Fair enough."

We eat in silence for a while. I have to admit, the man cooks a damn good breakfast. The pancakes are perfectly golden brown and the French toast is sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar. It's been way too long since I've had a home cooked breakfast.

"Where did you learn to cook?" I blurt out, as I'm scraping the last of my eggs onto my fork.

Damon eyes me with surprise, obviously stunned that I've chosen to speak without prompting.

"My mother taught me. I would stand on a stool next to the counter and just watch her until finally she told me if I was just going to watch her, I might as well make myself useful and help out." A small smile touches his lips as he speaks of his mother.

I am momentarily stunned by the reverence in his voice. He's never been this soft or gentle. "Sounds like a great woman," I say, looking him straight in the eyes. Despite the moment, I refuse to back down.

"She was," he agrees sadly.

"You lost her," I reply and it's not a question. I can see clearly in his eyes what his mother meant to him.

"Yes, I did," he responds, but his voice no longer holds the warmth it did only a few seconds ago.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, my voice strong and never dropping his stare.

I watch as he rebuilds the wall and shuts me out again.

"You better hurry up or we're going to be late." His words are clipped and strained as if he's barely holding onto his emotions.

Whoa, talk about change in direction. This man is so perplexing. I don't think I'm ever going to understand how his mind works. There are so many sides to him that I never know which I'm going to get when he opens his mouth.

We finish our breakfast, clear the dishes, and drive to the studio in strained silence on my part. After being shut down at breakfast, I remember how easily I'm swept up by him and how easily he can reject me. Just like he did that night. I can't let him have that advantage anymore, so I decide to shut him out before he hurts me again. I'm in self-preservation mode.

The day runs smoothly thanks to the fact that I'm rehearsing with the band all day. I really like them. They are all seasoned musicians, but they take my direction and respect me as an artist. I can't wait to start recording with them next week.

When I leave the rehearsal stage I'm feeling much more like myself. The music has cleared my mind and directing the band has empowered me. So, when I enter the hallway and come face-to-face with both Damon and Alaric, I'm not even phased. They both turn and look at me expectantly when I walk up.

"Hey, Elena," Ric says cheerfully.

"Hi, Ric," I beam at him before the smile drops off my face and I turn to Damon. "You ready to go?" My voice is detached and a stark contrast to how I greeted Alaric - who is currently staring at us as if we've lost our minds.

"Elena's giving me a ride home," Damon says by way of explanation and looking like a smug bastard to boot.

Alaric stares at me slack jawed. I shoot him a look that says don't-fucking-ask and that jaw snaps right back into place.

"Why doesn't she just give you a ride to where you left your car?" Alaric asks, looking very uncomfortable with the idea of the two of us alone.

"I had it picked up and taken to my place this afternoon," Damon explains easily, not missing a beat and clearly unaffected by the death glare Ric is shooting at him. Then he turns to me. "Shall we?"

"Let's go," I say to Damon before I turn and start toward the parking lot, not even bothering to check if he's following me. He can take his precious time, but then he's walking home.

As I get into my car, he's right there plopping himself into the passenger seat.

"How was your rehearsal with the band?" he asks nonchalantly as he clicks his seatbelt into place.

"Fine." My response is clipped and short as I pull out of the studio parking lot and deftly dodge some paparazzi. I can feel Damon's gaze on me, but I studiously ignore it. Thankfully he gets the hint and only speaks when giving me directions to his apartment.

When I finally pull up to the building, the tension in the car is suffocating. He directs me to pull into the parking garage underneath the high-rise tower.

I wait for Damon to get out of the car, but instead he just sits there. Finally, he takes a deep breath and I think he's going to open the door, but instead he turns to me.

"Would you like to come inside? Maybe have some dinner?" he asks, his voice unusually quiet and reserved.

His question takes me completely off guard. So, instead of responding with a short, to the point word, I respond honestly.

"You don't need to do that. You already made breakfast this morning." Thankfully, along with my honesty comes a brush off as well.

"Breakfast was for last night, dinner is for me being an asshole," he says seriously, not even phased by my rejection. "Please, Elena. I just want a chance to explain."

Well, fuck. How am I supposed to shut him down after that?

"Okay," I breathe. Damn it! I was supposed to remain strong against him and now I'm agreeing to dinner with him. In his apartment. Alone.

I need some serious psychological help.

Or a lobotomy.

I throw my car into park, turn it off and jump out. Cursing both myself and Damon the whole while. How did I agree to this? Why did I agree to this?

I follow Damon into the elevator and he punches in a few numbers on the keypad and the elevator starts to move. The moment the doors close, I realize how poorly thought out this plan is. I need to be in control around him, but when we're alone and in such a confined space, I'm definitely not in control of myself. God, I can even smell him from where I stand against the wall, as far away from him as I can be.

I wait patiently as the numbers continue upward.

23, 24, 25.

The elevator stops and opens its doors on the 25th floor. It's the fucking penthouse. Well, of course. This is Damon Salvatore for heaven's sake.

I follow him out of the elevator and through the entry way into a massive open living area. My eyes catch his black cowboy hat hanging on a peg near the front doors. It sends a jolt of lust down my spine when I picture what he looks like in it. I look away and shake the image out of my head. The only walls are made of glass and overlook downtown Nashville. There is a set of stairs across from the giant state of the art kitchen complete with a breakfast bar and an island the size of my bedroom. Shit, the man must really love to cook.

"Make yourself comfortable," Damon says as he walks over to the kitchen and immediately starts pulling ingredients. "Drink?"

I shake my head instantly. "I'm driving so I'll just take a water, thanks."

He gives me a slight nod and I continue my exploration of this sprawling space. It's much warmer than I ever pictured Damon's penthouse to be. I walk along the windows, gazing down at the lights downtown. It's strange being so high up in this ivory tower.

I notice a black grand piano tucked into the corner and like a moth to a flame, I make my way over to it without realizing that my feet have even moved. The top is up and it's just asking to be played, so naturally I can't resist. I slide onto the bench and let my fingers glide across the keys. I play little pieces of my songs and of songs I love. Slowly, the music morphs into a little melody I've had stuck in my head all day. Just a few notes, but soon it turns into more. My fingers act on their own accord to embellish the melody that's coming to life before my eyes.

"What is that?" Damon asks as he walks over with my water. I take a quick sip before I answer.

"Just something that's been in my head all day," I respond with a shrug.

"Is this the first time you've played it out on a piano?" he asks, the curiosity in his voice compelling me to answer him honestly rather than brush him off.

"Yeah, I guess it is," I say, not quite sure where he's going with this.

"Damn, Elena. Do you know how talented you have to be to do something like that?" he asks in an amazed voice. There's also a hint of pride in it that makes my heart swell and my blood pump faster. How does he do this to me?

"You're exaggerating." I roll my eyes and take another sip of my water.

"How long does it take you to write a song on average?" He folds his arms over his chest and leans his hip against the side of the piano.

I shrug again. "I'm not sure, maybe a few hours."

He sputters and his eyes go wide. "A few hours!"

I'm taken aback by his reaction. I guess that's not normal.

"It takes most artists at least a few days to really write a song," Damon explains when he sees the confused look on my face. "Are you even human?" he asks with a laugh before he walks back to the kitchen to work on dinner.

I stare at his retreating back as I mull over our strange conversation in my mind. But instead of looking too far into it, I just decide it's easier to push it aside for now and get back to the music. To a place that makes sense.

* * *

Damon's cooking knows no bounds. He made us spaghetti with marinara sauce and meatballs, complete with bread and salad. I momentarily wonder if he stalked me, because this is my absolutely favorite meal. Although now I don't know if I'll be able to eat it again because Damon's spaghetti blows all other spaghetti out of the water. Curse him for making such amazing food. I can never resist when food is involved.

"So, do you have lyrics for that song yet?" Damon asks as he refills his water from the pitcher. I notice that he isn't drinking either.

"No and I won't put lyrics to it until I find the perfect match," I tell him after I finish chewing my mouthful of food. "I can't disrespect my music like that."

"Like what?" he asks and he seems genuinely interested in what I'm telling him.

"By putting out music that isn't perfect to me. When it comes to my music I can't settle. I just can't bring myself to do it," I explain passionately.

"You sound like a true artist," he says seriously with pride in his voice.

I blush. I fucking blush.

"Thank you," I mumble as I drop my eyes from his intense gaze. This is all too personal for my liking. I need to put a guard up stat or else I'm so screwed.

"Elena," he says my name and by his tone I know exactly what he wants to talk about. "We need to talk about what happened."

"And the elephant in the room lets out a mighty roar," I mutter sarcastically. "And no, we really don't. Thank you for dinner, but I really should be going." I place my napkin on my empty plate and rise from the table.

Clearly Damon's manners win out, because he rises as well.

"Elena, please," he says desperately to my back as I start walking away. "I need to say some things. You need to hear them."

His words stop me in my tracks. Don't turn around. Keep walking. Don't you dare turn around, I chant to myself. But against my better judgment, I turn around.

"You have five minutes," I tell him sternly. "And then I'm out the door and we go back to being acquaintances."

"And I should let you walk out that door," he agrees. "Someone like you doesn't deserve someone who is fucked up like me."

His honestly is downright shocking. I gaze at him warily, totally unprepared for whatever direction he is going to take this in.

"You are kind and good and pure and stubborn as hell, you know that?" He lets out a wry laugh with an exasperated shake of his head before he continues, "You deserve someone who will romance you and court you. Someone who can give you their whole heart instead of just half of it. But I'm not a man who is easily denied and I want what I want and I want you. I just can't seem to stay away despite the fact that I'm no good for you."

Holy. Shit.

His words hang in the air and I'm not quite sure how to process them. I can't help but think of the things he said that night. It just doesn't match up and now I don't know what to believe.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said," he interrupts me, his brow scrunching in frustration. He starts pacing slowly, obviously trying to work out his thoughts. "God, it plays in my mind over and over and over again." He stops and runs a hand over his face and then through his hair before he nails me with those baby blue eyes. "I didn't mean those things the way you thought. I was disgusted with myself because I took something so pure from you when you deserved to have all the hearts and flowers and shit that go with giving that piece of you away."

Oh God. It's everything I've wanted to hear.

Before I can even attempt to respond, he continues, "But again, I want what I want and I usually get what I want."

His words send a shiver of terror and lust down my spine. He wants me. Damon Salvatore wants me. And I'm having a very difficult time wrapping my head around that information. This is all just too much. His intensity, the things he's saying to me, the things he previously said to me.

"Elena?" He says my name softly as if he's talking to a scared cornered animal. And it's the last straw. I can't be here, I can't think clearly. Not around him. I can't let him in just to be hurt again.

"I should go," I finally say and suck up my courage to look him straight in the eyes. He looks disappointed. Like he wanted me to stay.

"I'll walk you out," he says after a few quiet moments and gestures to the elevator.

Once inside, the tension between us multiplies. I'm not sure how I'll survive 25 floors down to the basement.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," Damon says in a low voice somewhere between the 16th and 15th floor.

I let out a strangled laugh as my eyes dart to his. "Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

As my words register, his eyes darken dramatically. And then the tension goes from strained tension to sexual tension in a matter of seconds. As if someone filled the elevator with gas and then lit a match.

Almost in slow motion, I stand helplessly as Damon closes the few feet between us and pulls me against him. Instinctively my hands shoot out and land on his chest to steady myself. Then one hand is in my hair, tilting my head back and the other is wrapped around my waist, holding me in place. I hear my heart pounding in my chest as his lips hover just above mine in wait. Shit. He's waiting for me to close the gap. He wants me to be the one to kiss him.

Do I want this? Do I really want to go down this road? Is this something that I want to risk? The questions fly through my mind and only one word answers them all.

Yes. _Hell_ yes.

So I rise up on my tiptoes and take the risk. Instead of pushing him away, my fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer. Our lips move in perfect sync with each other, constantly giving and taking. But there is something different about this kiss compared to the other two we've shared. He's almost... tender. There are still layers and layers of pure lust stacked on top, but somewhere underneath it all is something tender and sweet. Fuck, I'm totally swooning.

The elevator dings, informing us that we've reached our destination and instead of jumping away from me, Damon pulls back lazily - his arms still around me - and gives me a very, very self-satisfied smirk. One that I'd like to slap off his face if he hadn't just kissed me like that.

I almost stumble out of the elevator when he lets me go, but I manage to remain graceful. We walk in silence across the underground lot to my car.

"Thank you for dinner," I say once we reach my car.

"You are welcome," he replies, that infuriating smirk still firmly in place.

"Goodnight, Damon." I can't help the small smile that touches my lips.

"Goodnight, Elena," he says softly before he takes a small step toward me and ever so slowly leans in to press his lips against my cheek. I nearly combust. How does he make such a small gesture so heart-poundingly good?

I stand totally paralyzed for a moment until I snap myself out of it and get into my car.

Holy shit.

I'm so screwed.

* * *

**Betcha weren't expecting that, eh?**

**The chapter title comes from the Kings of Leon song. It came on my playlist right as I was writing the kiss in the elevator and it was so perfect.**

**Follow me on Twitter and we can be internet friends! Wee! rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love. They really are. You guys make me smile so hard with every review you send me. **


	10. 2 am

**Hi, lovelies. It's been a while, I know. I really just wanted to get Pretend You Love Me finished before I really hit this story hard. So now that's done and here's an update. It took much, much longer than I anticipated, but it turned out MUCH longer than I intended, so much so that I had to split this chapter.  
**

**Thanks to my beta, Jenn (elvishgrrl) for being awesome. Seriously.  
**

**And to Emma for letting me bombard her with ideas and various drafts of this chapter. **

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

I wake up Monday morning in a fit of dread. I have to see Damon today. After dinner on Friday night, I've successfully dodged all of his phone calls and text messages. Not that there were many, the man knows how to take a hint. But I sincerely doubt he'll be that courteous in person.

After I had time to get my brain working properly after Damon's confessions and the make out session in the elevator, I realized just how much power he has to hurt me. Really hurt me. Like the kind of heartbreak that would force me into a week-long wallowing session, including wine, ice cream, hard liquor, bad decisions and horrific movies.

I've never wanted to be that girl. I've always been levelheaded when it comes to the opposite sex. Even if I were on the receiving end of a break up, it would only take about 24 hours before I bounced back. I wouldn't even cry. Not once. Not even a little.

And if I'm being honest with myself, his words scare the living shit out of me. They've been playing on repeat in my head all weekend. They were so ominous and I can't help feeling like I should really listen to him. He says he's fucked up and that I'm too good for him, but is it the truth or is he just saying that out of some strange self-loathing complex?

But despite his warning, and despite the feeling of foreboding in my rational mind, I still can't get him out of my head. He makes me feel so alive. Granted it's the kind of alive you'd feel holding onto the end of a lit stick of dynamite and somehow it defects and doesn't explode in your face. I'd say that's an accurate comparison. He's swept into my life like a hurricane and he makes me feel so much. More than I've felt with anyone I've been around in all my 23 years. There's just something about him that I can't resist, it draws me in like a fucking moth to a flame. I'm helpless against it.

I decide that I'm going to have to face the world sometime. I mean, I can't make a music career from the comfort and protection of my bed. I get ready slowly, taking my time since I don't start recording until the late morning. After I dress, I make sure to eat my healthy adult breakfast consisting of a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. If Damon saw this, he just might reconsider his feelings for me. I chuckle to myself as I dump the bowl in the sink and head out.

I decide that it's such a gorgeous day, I'll walk the short distance from my apartment to the recording studio. It's overcast and breezy, just the way I like it.

The studio is bustling with activity when I arrive. People greet me as I make my way through the halls and to the recording studio.

"Elena Gilbert!" I hear Caroline's voice carry down the hall from behind me.

"Shit," I mutter to myself before plastering a smile on my face and turning to face her.

She is a blonde flurry of pure rage. Uh-oh. This is not going to end well. I consider running and hiding in the studio, but I know I'll have to eventually face her wrath and I don't want to give her any more time to stew.

"We need to talk... NOW," she hisses before dragging me into the nearby women's restroom.

"What is this about, Caroline?" I whine. I'm anxious to start recording.

"Please tell me that you did not pick a drunk Damon up from the bar on Thursday night. And please also tell me that you didn't take him back to your apartment with you," Caroline demands. Oh, shit.

"Caroline..." I start, but I'm immediately interrupted by her cry of moral outrage.

"Oh my God, you did!" Her shrill voice echoes off the tiled floor and walls of the small bathroom. "Did you sleep with him, too?"

I'm sure my eyes bug out of my head. "Can you keep your voice down? And no, I didn't sleep with him!"

"I know I can't believe everything I read, but are you sure you know what you are doing with him?" Caroline asks as I turn to leave, only now her voice is filled with genuine concern. And this is why I love Caroline. She is so unapologetically herself, but she's also fiercely loyal.

"No, I really don't."

* * *

The hallway is much quieter as I stroll down toward my assigned studio. As I walk I feel rather than see Damon appear behind me.

"You're ignoring me." His voice is low and husky in my ear. It sends shivers down my spine that I quickly try and cover.

"Wow, pretty and smart," I reply mockingly, not even breaking my stride. Why didn't I just stay in bed this morning?

I feel his anger fume behind me, before he grabs my elbow, effectively stopping me in my tracks and turning me to face him. "Need I remind you that you are the one who kissed me?" he hisses, but there is something in his eyes that softens me a little. Hurt? Rejection? I can't quite put my finger on it.

"As a matter of fact, no, you need not remind me. Believe me, I remember." _Too well._

"Did I ruin everything that night?" he asks softly after a moment of hesitation.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't react the way I initially imagined, in fact, you didn't react at all," he says, and it's almost a mumble.

He looks so lost and hurt that I can't handle it any longer. "Damon, can we not do this right now?"

"But we _will_ do it, and soon." His voice is low again and full of promises that both frighten and exhilarate me.

Before I lose my dignity, I pull my arm from his grasp and enter the studio with him on my heels.

Alaric comes in for our first day of recording to offer any help and suggestions and I assume that he and Damon spoke, seeing as Damon's still my producer. For the next two hours, I'm subjected to a full-on Damon public seduction. He studiously ignores me unless he's offering up ideas and critiques to the musician that's in the recording box, but despite the fact that he doesn't speak to me, he doesn't take his hands off of me. Every chance he gets, he brushes an arm against mine, his fingers skim across my lower back, or he pushes his hips against my ass to lean over and grab something. It's maddening and after his words in the hallway, my whole body is on high alert. Every piece of me aches to feel him inside me again, or feel his lips on mine. I have to mentally slap myself one too many times. I even escape to the bathroom to try to talk myself down.

When I enter the studio again, Damon's the only one inside. He informs me that Alaric and Jaime - our guitarist - took a quick break.

I gladly take the opportunity to call him out.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" I snap at him, making sure I stand a good distance away from him.

His smirk both irritates me and turns me on. Damn it. "Why? Is it working?" He crosses the small space and I back up until my back hits the door. Shit. I'm trapped.

"No," I say defensively, too defensively.

He smiles, a full, teeth-baring smile. God, it's gorgeous. "Then why would you feel the need to call me out?" Fuck. He sees right through me. The air between us crackles with energy - I can feel it and I sure as hell know he can too because I can see the fire in his eyes. He steps closer again and his body is only inches away, yet he's not touching me. And I hate myself for it, but I _want_ him to touch me.

"You're afraid it's going to be too good between us, aren't you?" he murmurs softly, tilting his head to the side to study my face.

Yes. Yes I know it's going to be good between us. That isn't the problem. My heart is the problem. He said so himself that he can't love me. I want someone who can love me. But I want him, too. It's just a question of which one I want more.

"Please don't, Damon," I whisper, and my voice is pleading. It kills my pride, but I really don't care at this point. I see him already backing off at the rejection and before I can stop myself I add on, "Not here."

Well if that doesn't just light him up like a firecracker on the fourth of July. And shit, his excitement is infectious. He pulls it under control and steps away from me, just as someone tries to open the door, nearly knocking me over.

"Sorry!" I hear Ric's voice from the other side of the wood and it breaks the tension between Damon and I, for which I'm grateful. I don't know how much more of that I could've handled.

We all dive back into work for an hour or so until the door opens and I see Bonnie poke her head inside.

"Hey, Bonnie!" I call to her.

Her response is a tight smile that doesn't touch her eyes before she focuses her attention on Alaric and Damon. "I need to speak with the both of you."

Her voice is strained and obviously Damon and Ric pick up on it and comply immediately, leaving me to gaze around mindlessly, alone in the dim studio.

They both look pale and sick when they come back inside.

"Everything okay?" I ask hesitantly.

Neither answer, but they both look me over as if reminding themselves that I'm really here. It's a very strange feeling. Something is wrong. But as soon as I open my mouth to question them further, they throw themselves right back into work. They distract me with questions on the sound I want on the song we are currently working on.

The next few hours go by in a blur. Everything is coming together exactly the way I'd imagined and Damon's suggestions and direction only improve the overall sound. We work seamlessly together, bouncing ideas around, talking out different riffs, guitar solos, and harmonies. We get so into the music that we forget where we stand, the lines blur so easily when music is involved. He's a creative mastermind and I'm in awe of his knowledge and ideas.

When we start wrapping for the day, both he and Ric go back to being quiet and introspective.

"What's going on, you two?" I finally ask. Their silence is freaking me the fuck out.

Alaric turns to me and gazes at me like my dad does from time to time. "We've received some threats to the studio that we're concerned about, so I'd feel much better if you'd let Damon give you a ride rather than walk." His voice is gentle as if he's afraid to spook me.

"Okay," I agree instantly because I really can't say no to him when he looks at me like that.

"What's going on?" I ask when I settle into Damon's Range Rover.

"Just a safety procedure," he answers, but I can tell his mind is in a completely different place. It's unnerving.

"Don't lie to me, damn it. Both you and Ric are freaked out about something. Out with it," I demand, but he isn't even affected by my words. He just turns and nails me with a stern look.

"Don't worry about it," he snaps, effectively ending that conversation.

We ride in silence to my apartment complex and, instead of dropping me off, he pulls into the garage, parks, and follows me all the way to my door.

"Thanks for the ride and the escort," I say awkwardly as I fish out my keys.

"Actually, Ric forgot to tell you that we're just making a pit stop so you can pack a few things. You're staying the night in my guest room until they install a security system in your apartment," he informs me.

Wait. Hold up. This must be more serious than they let on, because nothing was said about sleeping at Damon's or a security system. While I'm distracted, he takes my keys from my hands and lets us both inside. I follow mindlessly, still trying to comprehend the magnitude of the situation.

"What's going on?" I ask again, the sound of the door slamming snapping me out of my daze and back to reality.

"What's not going on is you packing, so hop to it," he says lightly, gesturing to the hallway leading to my room.

"I'm not leaving this apartment until you tell me what the fuck is going on," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Elena," he sighs as he turns to face me.

"Don't you dare 'Elena' me, Damon," I hiss.

"Not here, okay?" he barks and then runs a stressed hand through his hair before adding, "Please."

The soft desperation of his plea forces me to rethink the situation. He's clearly shaken over this, whatever it is, and I can tell by his demeanor that he's not used to feeling out of control, feeling helpless. I decide to placate him and I disappear to my room only to appear a half hour later with a small duffel bag in hand.

He's lounging comfortably on my couch, but on a second look, I see that his muscles are tense and his eyes are darting around the small space. He's anything but comfortable.

"Ready," I tell him and he nods once and leads me out of my apartment, locking the door with my keys.

As we walk, I glance back at my apartment door and wonder if once I find out what's going on if I'll ever feel safe there again.

* * *

The tension from the day - Damon's touches and Bonnie's secret - build to unsurpassable extremes in Damon's car. The tension is so thick, it's threatening to suffocate me. It's seems as though the air is humming with an electrical charge and I know it can't just be me feeling it. We pull into the lower level garage and I take the first opportunity to leap from the car and revel in some semblance of relief. It doesn't last long, however. Damon grabs my bag before I can and we head across the lot.

The moment the elevator doors close, it's the same old song and dance. The sexual tension goes through the roof and nearly blows the small space to smithereens. I studiously stare at the stainless steel doors until miraculously, they open into Damon's penthouse.

I make it a total of seven steps into the penthouse before I hear my bag hit the floor and an animalistic growl come from behind me. I turn just in time to see Damon nearly pounce on me. I'm in his arms and his lips are on mine before I can even attempt to protest. Not that I'd want to.

I grasp his biceps and go along for the ride. His mouth moves almost desperately over mine and his hands splay over my back, pulling me closer. I breathe him in and he takes the opportunity to search my mouth with his tongue. It's so warm and soft and probing that I can't stop myself from sucking on it and running my own up and down its length. Which gives him an idea of what my mouth would like to do to other parts of him. His guttural groan tells me that he got that message.

My hands move up his arms and tangle into his hair when I suddenly remember why I'm here in the first place and it's like a nice big bucket of ice water over my head. So instead of tugging him closer, I pull with all my might, wrenching my face from his. We both try desperately to calm our sporadic breathing.

"Don't you try and distract me from what's going on," I warn him.

"Can I at least show you your room before we get into this?" he replies, totally exasperated and probably upset that I stopped him. I'm a little upset that I stopped him.

I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?" he asks.

"I thought the whole 'guest bedroom' thing was a ruse," I say with a small laugh, now realizing how stupid I must sound - assuming that he wants me in his bed.

He goes silent for a long time, staring at the floor. "It's been years since a woman has slept in my bed," he admits softly and I'm absolutely mortified. How do I even react to that? Really, all I want to do is go hide in a ditch somewhere right now.

Well, this is awkward.

I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But he pulls it together quickly, grabs my bag off the floor and motions me to follow him, that infuriating smirk still intact.

He shows me his state of the art music room, complete with another grand piano that sparks some intense fantasies. There are several other rooms: a game room, a TV room and then my bedroom for the night. He sets my bag on the bed and my need to know what is going on overrides all else.

"Spill, Damon," I say as I turn to face him and cross my arms over my chest.

"Can't this wait until after dinner?" he half-whines.

"No, now," I snap. He's procrastinated telling me long enough.

He glances around the room as if seeking divine intervention before he sighs and starts talking. "Bonnie takes care of your fan mail and a few weeks ago there was a letter to you that was creepy, but harmless. She said you've received six letters from this person, each getting progressively more violent and threatening."

I stop breathing. Oh this is bad. This is very bad. "Oh my God." I drop onto the edge of the bed before I glance up at his weary face. "What do they say?"

The only answer I get is an ominous shake of his head. Oh God.

I take a deep breath and put on my brave face. "Tell me, Damon. No more hiding things from me."

He closes his eyes as if he's in immense pain. This is so very bad if it's shaken Damon up this much. "They know where you live, Elena." Another deep breath. "He's threatening to show up and kidnap you before he does very specific unspeakable things to you."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fold of papers. Wordlessly he hands them to me and I start reading. The letters are typed and obviously photocopies of the originals. The first few are mostly harmless. Basic threats. Then the last two are the big guns. Bonds. Breaking and entering. Kidnapping... I can't read anymore.

I rip my eyes from the papers in my hands and just stare up at him. This can't be real. This is all too much.

"We've made a report to the police, however they can't do much since there is no return address and these letters are typed," Damon tells me quietly, like he's afraid to spook me. "They've assured us they'll keep tabs on this."

The room is silent except for the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. This is real. This is really happening. The dark side of fame.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly. Am I okay? I'm not sure. I just found out I have an anonymous stalker who wants to sexually assault me. I don't think I'm okay.

"He can't hurt me, right?" My voice is so small and weak, but I'm past caring.

"No." He jumps on that, his eyes bulging. "He won't hurt you. He won't come near you, I swear."

I simply nod because I no longer trust my voice.

Damon's eyes are full of concern, our earlier awkward moment forgotten. "Would you like some dinner?"

I nod again and when he leaves I dig into my duffel bag for my favorite sweats and curl up under the covers hoping to escape the nightmare my life suddenly turned into.

* * *

_I wake with a jolt and not a minute later a feeling of dread sweeps over me. I strain my ears in the silence of my bedroom, but hear nothing. I lie back against my pillows and try desperately to slow my racing pulse. I tell myself there is nothing there. I chant it in my mind until my eyelids finally droop and I fall back into the oblivion of sleep._

_I wake again and there is a hand on my face and I feel warm breath on my neck. My adrenaline kicks in immediately and I fight, but the black shadow that looms over me fights back. As I kick and punch, I feel him chuckle right in my ear. It's no use. I haven't even budged him._

_"STOP!" I scream against his clammy hand at the top of my lungs, but I don't make a sound._

_Hot tears roll down my cheeks and when his body nudges my thighs apart, I start thrashing again, unable to go down without a fight. His breath is hot and sticky on my skin and makes me want to vomit. I start to hyperventilate when I feel the blade of a knife bite into the skin of my throat._

_"Shh, Elena," the voice says when I start to whimper._

_"Please don't," I mumble against the hand as he rocks his hips into mine. This can't be happening. I try to fight him once more, but my limbs are heavy. I'm immobile and totally at his mercy._

_He removes his hand from my mouth, satisfied I'll keep quiet and while his meaty hand gropes my breast, I suck in as much air as I can and let out a blood-curdling scream._

"ELENA!"

I hear my name again, but this time it jolts me upright and I open my eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. Oh my God, it wasn't a dream.

I'm about to launch into full-on panic mode when Damon's face comes into my line of sight. His hands are wrapped firmly around my shoulders and his blue eyes are wide with alarm. I glance around the room and notice a small alarm clock telling me it's just after two in the morning. I slept through dinner.

"Elena, you're safe. You were dreaming." His voice is soft and soothing and everything I need after the nightmare I just endured. My breathing is coming in erratic pants like I just ran a marathon.

"Damon?" My voice is quiet and needy and I'm too freaked out to be bothered by it. Without another word he pulls me into his arms and I bury my face in the warm skin of his neck and just breathe him in. It isn't until then that I realize I'm shaking. As the terror wears off, I chant to myself not to cry. Especially while he's stroking my hair with one hand and soothing up and down my spine with the other. I allow myself to take all my comfort from him and snuggle closer to his shirtless chest.

As the last of my fear from my dream finally evaporates, I'm left feeling incredibly insecure. I don't want to go back to sleep alone and risk falling into that world again. I breathe Damon's scent in and something stirs deep in my belly. I think about how he's come to my rescue, how he's managed to so quickly chase away the demons, and I realize how much I want this man. No one on earth has successfully made me feel everything he has. No one has matched me and challenged me the way he has. And despite his warnings, I will take him however I can get him. I can accept that. I know the boundaries. I know the limits. I know that I can't seem to stay away.

And right now, what I need is for him to make me feel anything but the impending terror that will come when I finally shut my eyes. I pull back once my breathing calms and gaze right into those baby blues. The warmth that was brewing deep in my belly has ignited my blood on fire. I want this man. And right now, I need him.

"Don't look at me like that." Damon's voice is low and full of warning, but I ignore it.

"Like what?" I ask as innocently as I can manage.

"Like you're about to climb me like a tree," he deadpans.

I try another tactic. Honesty. "Please, Damon. I need you."

My soft pleading words shift his eyes from warning to pain. I lean in close so my lips are a breath away from his and whisper, "Please don't make me go back to sleep."

I see his resolve weaken and shatter in his eyes, but instead of sealing his lips to mine, one arm sweeps under my knees and the other wraps around my waist and he lifts me off the bed and into his arms.

"Where are we going?" I ask once the surprise of his actions wears off and he starts down the hall.

"I want you in my bed."

* * *

**Yes, I am aware of how evil I am for leaving it there. LOL. I can assure you the next chapter will not disappoint.  
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	11. Don't You Wanna Stay

**Hello all! Thanks again for all your beautiful reviews! Wow. 400. That's a freaking record. I'm just totally blown away.**

**Thanks to my beta, Jenn (elvishgrrl) for proofreading this. And being an all around badass.**

**And thanks to my twin, Emma, who reads my smut and helps this sexually awkward virgin with all the in's and out's of writing sex. (okay, I know how it all works, obviously. I'm not that prudish.) Hahaha. **

**On that TMI note... **

* * *

_I want you in my bed._

Fuck.

His words repeat in my mind with every step he takes down the hallway. Is this real life? I stare at his face as he walks. His strong jaw is so sexy, I want to run my lips, tongue, teeth. all over it. I admire his thick, dark eyelashes that frame such beautiful blue eyes. His hair is disheveled from sleep and I imagine that my fingers are soon going to make it worse. That thought takes me straight back to his words.

_I want you in my bed._

Again, fuck.

My heart is pounding in my chest by the time he walks into his own room. He gently lowers me to my feet and I reluctantly tear my gaze from his eyes and glance around his bedroom. It's gargantuan. The floors are dark hardwood, the walls are paneled with the same only a shade darker. Everything in here is manly and almost intruding on the large space.

I stare at the California King bed with the large dark wood headboard. It's wildly intimidating and inviting.

I don't stare long because Damon's hands can wait no longer and they grip the hem of my t-shirt to peel it off my skin. I lift my hands to make it easier, but when the air hits my bare breasts, I instantly move to cover them up once the shirt is discarded somewhere across the room, forgetting that I'd forgone a bra. Remembering the last time we did this, I feel a surge of insecurity. How could I possibly recover if I open myself to him only to be rejected again?

He puts those thoughts to rest when his fingers wrap securely around my wrist and pry my hands away from my chest. I studiously keep my eyes averted, but when he sucks one nipple into his mouth, a sharp gasp escapes my lips and I look down to see those big blue eyes staring up at me, my breast disappearing inside the warmth of his mouth. Holy shit, that's hot. He holds my hands at my sides while he alternates breasts. I ache to reach out, no longer to push him away or cover up, but to pull him closer. Maybe run my fingers through his hair and pull it trying to elicit that sexy growl from him again.

"Damon," I plead for God even knows what as I struggle against his strong hold on my wrists.

He lifts his head slowly, taking a break from his slow torture to hit me with his world famous smirk. Still not answering my plea, his lips blaze a fiery trail over my shoulder and up my neck. I involuntarily tilt my head to give him better access and I feel his smile against the skin right below my ear. It's maddening and so fucking sexy all at the same time.

His warm breath is at my ear when he finally decides to respond.

"I'm going to enjoy every inch of you this time." If his husky whisper doesn't take my knees out, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear right after sure as hell does.

"Damon," I repeat, truly hating how needy I sound, but too far-gone to give a fuck.

His head moves to my other shoulder and copies the same path he took on the other side. And once more, when his warm breath hits my ear he whispers, "I'm going to make you scream."

I'm not sure why he whispered that in my ear and not to my lady parts, because everything south of my waistline clenches at his sensual promise.

With his hands still firmly around my wrists, his thumbs break free and start tracing small circles on the skin of my hips as his lips descend on mine. I want to reach for him so badly. To run my hands down the skin of his muscular back, to feel the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, to grip his hips so I can grind them against mine. I bite at his lower lip, hard, out of sheer frustration. I hear air hiss through his teeth and it sends a tingle right down my spine.

"Sheath the claws, kitten," he says through a chuckle.

"I want to touch you," I whine, my voice comes out all breathy.

"I know," he says in that self-satisfied way of his.

His hands move mine behind my back and he wraps one hand securely around both wrists before his now-freed hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back before his mouth claims mine once more. This time around his mouth is possessive and demanding against mine. Instead of coaxing my mouth open, he forces his tongue right in, not bothering to ask permission. Just taking. It's driving me insane. In the best way. With my hands behind my back, my breasts are now pressed against Damon's bare chest. The feeling is intoxicating. Our warm skin rubs against each other. I arch my back and surrender to his expert kissing.

The backs of my legs hit the bed and I hadn't even realized he'd lead me there. He bends over me so I'm forced back onto the bed and finally, he releases my hands, but steps out of my reach. Bastard.

His smirk makes me wonder if I'd actually said it aloud, but that thought disappears the moment his fingers hook into my sweatpants and pull them slowly down my legs. Praise the Lord I thought to shave my legs today. Once they are thrown carelessly over his shoulder, his hands run up the outside of my legs. At my hips, he traces the line of my panties before continuing down the inside of my thighs, completely avoiding the one place I want to be touched most. Damn him.

When his nose traces its way up the inside of one leg, I hold my breath, losing myself in the anticipation. The tip of his nose runs right up the center of my panties before it trails down my other leg. I growl in frustration.

"Patience is a virtue, Elena," he chides playfully.

"Yeah, well revenge is a bitch, Damon," I snap at him and he barks out a laugh, only pissing me off more.

Finally, after several more torturously feather light touches, he pulls my panties down my legs. I'm too far gone in the moment to even contemplate being self conscious. His hands lay flat on my inner thighs, holding them apart. His nose once again explores the area between my legs. I hold my breath, just waiting for him to finally touch me where I need him to. A gasp escapes me when his nose traces the seam of my outer lips and when he follows that with his tongue, my back arches off the bed in delight. Finally.

His tongue eventually dips between my folds and my moan bounces off the walls. I forgot how skilled his tongue is. It probes and explores everything but the bundle of nerves that is practically straining to be touched. My fingers white-knuckle the bedding as he gets close, but never close enough. After what feels like an eternity, I almost cave in and beg, but he takes mercy on me. The mind-blowing orgasm hits me so fast I hardly have time to breathe. Damon's name rolls off my tongue along with all sorts of different deities.

I'm still coming down from my high when I hear the rip of foil and Damon's naked body covers mine. I open my eyes to see him staring down at me. His smoldering gaze sends chills down my spine and I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck to bring his lips to mine. With my hands finally freed, I explore the fine planes of his back and his ass while his lips ravage mine. I feel his erection rubbing between my folds and it sets my skin on fire. So when Damon pulls back to position himself, I'm totally ready and willing to accept him inside me. He grabs my hips and presses into me slowly, just a little before retreating. Then again, only he pushes just a little further before pulling out almost completely. He keeps up the sweet torture until he's finally fully seated inside me. Thanks to his slow thrusts, my muscles happily accept the intrusion rather than fighting against it.

"You okay?" he asks breathlessly, the tender look in his eyes sending my heart into near cardiac arrest.

I look him right in the eyes and nod. I need him to move. Like now.

He grants my silence request and pulls his hips back before plunging forward again. I cry out in ecstasy, oh that feels heavenly. I'm sure my nails are digging into the skin on his back, but I really don't give a fuck and I doubt Damon does either. I'm enraptured by the look on his face as he really starts to move. He is holding his weight on his elbows on either side of my head. My hips start to move to meet his and I wrap my legs around his waist to try and pull him even closer. It's almost impossible because I can hardly tell where he ends and I begin.

I pull my head back and watch his face as he picks up the pace, building us both toward our release. His mouth is open and his eyes are scrunched shut, it's a sight to see. Damon's always so pulled together, always so in control of himself and his emotions, but to see him like this, so lost in this moment - so lost in me - it pushes me closer to that sweet release. I can tell he's close because he's losing the last of his precious control. This is what I do to him.

When his hand slips between our bodies to flick against that little bundle of nerves, I'm gone. I try hard to keep my eyes open and watch him come undone, but the pleasure is too great, pounding through me like waves in a turbulent ocean. It seeps through my veins and threatens to claw its way out of my skin. I know I'm screaming Damon's name, but I really couldn't give a fuck. My arms tighten around Damon to keep from floating away. I faintly register his cry of pleasure and it just prolongs my release.

We are wrapped around each other, totally lax and panting when we finally come back to earth. The quiet in the room is only broken by Damon's labored breath in my ear. I revel in the feel of his weight pressing me into the mattress.

He finally seems to reenter reality and his body tenses as he lifts himself off of me. I watch with fascination as he discards the condom and for several moments, I'm sure he's going to kick me out of his bed. I should've known I'd be rejected again. However, I knew going into it this time that it was very much a possibility. I really only have myself to blame. I mean, I practically threw myself at him. But he surprises me by turning out the light and crawling under the covers. I sit up and slip between the smooth sheets and burrow into his pillow, feeling ridiculously giddy. Damon surprises me once more by reaching out through the sheets, pulling my back against his front and slipping an arm protectively around my waist.

I fall into an easy and dreamless sleep surrounded by Damon.

* * *

I wake slowly, almost languidly. It's wonderful and I'm feeling absolutely refreshed. I'm not sure what it is about this morning, but my bed is deliciously comfortable so I roll over and snuggle further into the pillows. That's the moment when Damon's scent invades my nose.

Oh, shit.

I'm not in my bed. I'm in Damon's bed. My eyes fly open only to confirm what I already know. Cool air caresses my chest and I glance down.

Double shit.

I'm naked. In Damon Salvatore's bed. With a look around, I also confirm that I'm alone. The now familiar sinking feeling of rejection settles like a boulder in my stomach. How could I have been so stupid to let this happen again?

I glance over the side of the bed and see my t-shirt on the floor. Score. As I hop out of the bed, I see that it's only 7:00 am according to Damon's side table clock. At least I won't be late to the studio because of my own stupidity. As I slip my shirt over my head, I hear the door creak open and I freeze. This is going to be awkward. Where is a nice deep hole to crawl into when you need one?

I brace myself for the onslaught, but I only hear his deep, throaty chuckle. My eyes dart to him. He's standing in the doorway wearing nothing but low-slung pajama pants and an infuriating smirk. In his hands is a large tray that's filled with food.

"You're not running out on me before breakfast, are you?" he asks playfully as he rounds the opposite side of the bed and sets the tray on the nightstand.

I'm totally standing here like an idiot, but honestly, how would have I ever expected this?

When I still don't answer, he shrugs and slips between the sheets before laying the tray on top of the comforter. The smell of the food hits me hard and makes my mouth water and my stomach growl. I forgot how good of a cook he is. I hear his chuckle once more and I know he heard my stomach.

I shift my weight from foot to foot trying to decide my next course of action. I glance around the room and find my sweats. I try to mentally calculate how long it'd take to grab my pants and get out the door before Damon could catch me.

"Would you just get back in bed already?" Damon's teasing voice pulls me out of my runaway thoughts and makes my decision for me. How am I supposed to say no to an invitation into Damon's bed? With nothing but a t-shirt on, I lift the blankets and crawl underneath, settling myself back against the pillows. Damon positions the tray between us and we eat off of it in silence.

"Want to share what you were dreaming about last night?" Damon asks after we clear our plates. He's attempting nonchalance, but we both know what I was dreaming about when I woke him up early this morning.

"I really don't want to talk about it," I reply, fiddling with the comforter in my lap.

"Elena, you can't keep these things bottle up or they'll eat you alive. Trust me. You need to let it out." His voice is calm and low. As I continue to stare down at my hands, I see one of his move into my line of sight and cover mine.

"He was in my room," I whisper, no longer seeing our hands tangled on the sheets, but the gruesome scene that played out in my mind last night. Damon stays silent, waiting patiently for me to continue. "He had a knife to my throat and he was going to..."

My voice breaks off. I can't even say the word. I can't even think the word.

"He was going to rape me," I finally whisper, my voice breaking and giving away just how scared I was. How scared I still am.

I hear Damon groan as if in pain and his hand disappears a moment to remove the tray from between us. His body scoots closer to mine and I don't realize that I'm trembling until he pulls me into his arms and against his chest. It's exactly where I want to be and despite how much I hate myself for how weak that makes me, it's the truth.

I'm proud that I don't cry in his arms, even though he's rocking us back and forth and whispering sweet, calming words to me. I relax into him, reveling in the feel of being cared for. Of being held. Of being protected.

But one thought from last night lingers in my mind and effectively shatters the peace I found.

"I thought you don't let women share your bed," I say as I pull away from him.

He eyes me warily for several seconds. "I don't. And believe me, I'm surprised too."

"Surprised that I ended up here?" I ask, my voice bordering on snarky.

"Surprised that I liked it," he replies in a quiet voice, so quiet, in fact, that I almost don't hear him.

What do I even do with this new confession? My mind is swimming because, once again, Damon has caught me totally off guard and challenged everything I thought I knew.

"What are we doing here, Damon?" I sigh. This game of cat and mouse we have been playing is getting old.

"Breakfast in bed?" he says with a sheepish smile, glancing at the demolished plates on the tray on the nightstand.

I give him an I'm-not-fucking-stupid look and he sighs.

"I honestly don't know. It's been years since I've been in any semblance of a relationship."

"Is that what this is? A relationship? And don't you dare try and lie for my benefit."

"I don't do relationships, Elena. And for good reason."

I huff out a tired laugh and roll my eyes. For being pulled together and so cold all the time, he sure is really fucking weak on the inside.

Then it dawns on me that I'm being rejected. Again. I just cannot win with this man. So I slip off the bed and snatch my pants up off the ground before dragging them up my legs with jerky movements.

"What are you doing?" I hear Damon ask from behind me. He sounds exasperated and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"I don't do casual sex, Damon," I sigh and then panic when I realize I have no idea where my underwear are.

"If I remember correctly, before me you didn't do sex at all." He sounds so satisfied with himself for that one that I turn and narrow my eyes at him.

If looks could kill.

"That's not the point," I snap at him. "If that's where we stand, then maybe it's best we forget about all of this and go back to being colleagues." With that I turn and leave Damon's bedroom.

I am totally aware that I'm running scared the minute I realize I can't get what I want. Ultimately, I remind myself, I only want him. However I can get him. Oh God, I'm so screwed up in the head. What is he doing to me?

"Elena, wait," Damon's voice echoes down the long hall. I should've known I couldn't get away that easily. "Dammit, would you stop running from me?"

He catches up with me quickly and spins me around to face him with a hand on my elbow. My eyes involuntarily rake over his half naked body. There should be museums dedicated to the perfection of his chest and abs. He looks so fuckable standing there with his chest heaving and his hair in total disarray from sleep and from my fingers pulling it.

"I don't know what else to say." There is a hopelessness in my voice that I know he catches because his eyes soften and his firm grip becomes a gentle caress.

"Well I have plenty to say and you're going to listen," he says firmly and this catches me totally off guard. I know I shouldn't because I've become used to him telling me what to do.

So instead of responding, I just stare up at him and wait.

"I don't do relationships," he repeats and it's like another punch to the gut. I heard him just fine the first time. "But I realize that if I want to continue what we have, that's what I have to do."

Wait. What?

"What are you saying?" I ask suspiciously because it's all too good to be true.

"I'm saying that I'll try. I can't love you - that's just not going to happen, but I want to be with you and this is what I'm offering. And if you expect anything more, you will be sorely disappointed," he explains.

"Are you going to keep sleeping with other women?" I ask uneasily as he crowds me until my back hits the wall. My heart starts pounding in anticipation. How can this man turn me on just by standing too close?

"You're the only woman I'm currently sleeping with, but no, I won't sleep with other women. And you won't sleep with other men either." His voice is low and a little threatening.

Does this mean Damon Salvatore is my... _boyfriend_?

"Tell me you want this," he says in my ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps across my skin. "If you don't, I will back off right this second and leave you alone."

I'm totally speechless and way too breathless to even contemplate speaking, so all I can manage is a jerky nod.

"Say it," he whispers as his teeth graze my earlobe.

"I want this," I breathe shakily. I hate and love what he does to me.

"God, you drive me crazy," he growls into the skin of my neck where his lips and teeth are working me into a frenzy.

With his hand moving down across my stomach and into my pants, I could care less about a witty retort. Air hisses through his teeth when he sinks one finger inside me to find me warm, wet, and wanting. He wastes no time yanking my pants down my legs and then gripping my ass in his hands to lift me to him. I automatically wrap my legs around his waist while he moves the waistband of his pants out of the way and pushes up into me.

"Fuck!" he growls, the veins on his neck bulging with the control it takes for him not to move. "I'm not wearing protection."

"It's okay," I moan. "I'm on the pill."

His body responds for him and pulses inside me, causing me to cry out from the amazing mix of pain and pleasure. We become an entity of hands and mouths and movement right there in the hallway until we find our release at the same time. As I float back to earth, I wrap myself around him and attempt to pull him even closer, trying to hold onto this moment for just a little longer.

And then a realization hits me right in the gut.

I just negotiated a relationship with Damon Salvatore.

* * *

**Thank you all again for being so freaking amazing. You all deserve a hardy high five and your very own Damon Salvatore. You do.**

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	12. Come On Get Higher

**Finally, I know, I know. But life got the best of me and my muse took a hike. Then I went on vacation and if you follow me on Twitter, you'll know that my brother broke his neck a few nights ago. Needless to say, it took a while to get back in the saddle. But again, if you follow my Twitter, you'll know the story was never far from my mind.**

**Thank you to Sandra for stepping in as my last minute beta and is the reason you have this chapter today and not Friday. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

I'm finally showered and ready as I come down the stairs at Damon's place. I'm nervous to leave the happy bubble we have here. As if the moment we leave his loft, all the progress we have made will vanish.

He's leaning over the breakfast bar, reading through some papers. When he hears my footsteps, he looks up and smiles at me. God, that smile is magnificent. It makes my stomach flip and my pulse quicken.

"You ready?" I ask him when I can get my physiological reactions under control.

"Yeah, one second," he murmurs distractedly as he palms through the various papers and stuff on his counter. He startles me with a loud 'aha!' while thrusting a particular envelope in the air. I'm loving how playful he seems now.

He finally turns to me and explains, "there is a fundraising event at the Grand Ole Opry next weekend." He hands me the envelope and it's the nicest one I've ever seen. Nicer than wedding envelopes. I open it up to a three-piece handwritten invitation. It's gorgeous.

"Wow." I'm totally star struck by him right now. "I've never been to the Grand Ole Opry."

Damon's eyes widen slightly in surprise before he shifts a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"I want you to come with me, as my date," he finally says, a little half smile tugging at his lips.

"Are you serious!?" I blurt out with a bark of laughter. His face falls immediately. _Shit_.

"Yes. Why are you so surprised?" he asks quietly and I'm very sure I just hurt his feelings.

"Because not even an hour ago you barely agreed to even attempt a relationship," I explain, trying to keep the shock out of my voice.

"I'm trying, Elena," he says softly, and it tears at my heart. I set the envelope down on the counter and step up close to him. I exercise my new rights as 'girlfriend' and bury a hand in his hair to pull his lips to mine. He caves immediately, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me even closer.

"Thank you," I whisper against his lips.

He kisses me one more time before he steps away, a smirk plastered on his face.

* * *

"So are we going to tell people about us?" I ask nervously when we settle into Damon's car.

I sneak a glance at him and he looks uncomfortable again. _Shit_. Maybe I don't want to know the answer to that.

"I don't think that'll be a good idea, Elena," he says carefully and my heart drops even more.

But I mean, what did I expect? Getting to where we are now was like climbing Mount fucking Everest. Did I really think he'd scream it from the mountain top?

"I don't want to keep it a secret," Damon continues, obviously sensing my distress. "But as soon as you come out and confirm a relationship with anyone, your whole career will be about who you're currently dating. I don't want that for you."

I feel a stupid amount of relief hearing his explanation. It's comforting to know he's looking out for my career as much as he's looking out for me.

We ride to the studio in comfortable silence, both enjoying the beautiful rainy weather this morning.

Once we enter the building, the ease and closeness between us dissipates. I know it's because we are at work and Damon is respecting my career, but I still hate it. And about an hour into recording I realize he hates it too. I know that because the glances he shoots me are both playful and lust-filled. He's also using any excuse to touch me - my arm, my back, my hand - any chance he gets and anyway he can, his skin is in contact with mine. I can't help the excitement I feel every time he does.

When we take a break, I use the opportunity to call Caroline. I know that I'll need to suck up my pride and ask for her help for the benefit.

"So you need me to beautify you for one of the most prestigious fundraisers of all time, but you won't tell me how you snagged an invite!?" Caroline's voice screeches through the tiny speaker on my cell phone.

"Caroline," I sigh. "I already told you, it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" she questions in outrage. "Not a big deal!? Elena, only celebrity royalty get invites to this thing! It's like a thousand dollars a plate just to eat! Not to mention the minimum recommended donation!"

"Okay, Caroline, I get it! It's a big deal and that's all the more reason I need your help. You're the only one I trust to make me look good enough for this," I tell her, trying to appeal to her ego, hoping that'll throw her off the topic of my date.

"Okay, I'll do it, but just for you! And don't think I'm not going to hound you for more details on who your date is!" she sing-songs before hanging up.

She's going to have a conniption when she finds out my date is Damon.

* * *

Since my alarm system won't be ready for another day or two, Damon insisted I stay over again. Though it didn't take much persuading for me to agree.

I walk into the kitchen after unloading the clean clothes we picked up from my place, and I take a moment to appreciate the perfect form that is Damon Salvatore making us dinner. I could get very used to this.

After my conversation with Caroline and a full day of recording, I'm exhausted, and I release a heavy sigh. "Second guessing your career choice?" Damon asks with his back still to me.

"No, I'm just very tired because someone insisted on keeping me up all night," I say with mock exhaustion as I collapse dramatically against the countertop.

A smile teases my lips as I hear Damon's throaty chuckle. It sends tingles everywhere at once. He turns slowly and pins me with those blue eyes before walking toward me like a predator stalking its prey. Yep, I'm in trouble.

"Now, I seem to remember that the other way around. It was you keeping me _up_ all night," he says suggestively, placing his palms on the counter behind me, caging me with his body. His perfect, rock-solid body.

"Besides," he continues, leaning in so close that his warm breath caresses my ear. "If I'd been the one to seduce you, you wouldn't be walking today."

His proximity coupled with the darkening of his eyes sends my body into high alert. I trail my lips across his jaw and revel in the sharp intake of breath that passes his lips.

"I'd like to see you follow through on that," I whisper as sensually as I can once my lips are hovering above his.

In response Damon's hands run down my sides and hook behind my thighs to lift me onto the counter. He wastes no time wedging himself between them and snagging my bottom lip between his teeth. And damn it if that doesn't turn me on like no other. My hands tangle in his hair and then we're kissing as if our lives depend on it. Damon's arms are wrapped around my waist and there is no more space between the two of us.

We are so lost in each other that when we hear an abnormally loud clearing of the throat, we jump away from each other as if we'd been electrocuted. And that's when we both see Alaric standing in the kitchen, totally slack-jawed.

* * *

Damon and I stare at Alaric pacing in front of us after we quickly and awkwardly try to compose ourselves.

"This is awkward," Damon says, breaking the tense silence that has settled over us.

"No shit, Damon," Ric barks. He continues his pacing for another few steps before he turns toward us and nails Damon with a glare and a pointed finger. "I told you to stay away from her. I don't need you all over the tabloids again. It was hard enough the first time around."

Oh God. My gaze drops to my feet. This has escalated quickly. I feel so uncomfortable being here while they discuss Damon's tattered and destructive past. It's really none of my business. No matter how curious I am about the details, I don't want to find out about them like this - so raw and real.

"That was different," Damon responds defensively while his fingers intertwine with mine, keeping me firmly from leaving his side. I would normally revel in the intimate contact, but right now all I can think about is how I now can't get away from this entirely too-private conversation.

"I know, I know," Ric sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, the agitation and fight seem to flood right out of him. "Katherine was a bitch, but I'm not talking about you, or her even. I'm talking about Elena."

What? _Me?_ My head snaps up at the mention of my name. How did I get dragged into this?

Right, because it was my mouth Ric saw fused to Damon's face not even ten minutes ago.

"Elena is good," Ric continues, oblivious to my internal monologue. "And I don't care if she hurts you, but so help me God, if _you_ hurt _her_, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

I didn't expect that to come out of his mouth. Not that I'm complaining.

"Now, I'm going to go and leave you two to do ... what ever it was you were doing," Ric says, obviously trying to preserve his dignity before disappearing out of the room.

"I think he approves," Damon's voice breaks the silence and I can't help but laugh out loud. I'm feeling relief like someone who just got pardoned from the electric chair.

The giddy mood follows me through dinner and later when I explore Damon's penthouse while he takes a few phone calls. Of course I end up in his music room. It's so beautiful, with the grand piano in the middle and a whole wall of guitars behind it. His platinum records hang on the adjacent wall. I admire each one, reminiscing the time when I had purchased the albums myself. But nothing holds my attention as long as the piano does, and like a moth to a flame, I sit down at it. The top is closed and I leave it that way, not wanting to make too much noise.

I let my fingers glide across the keys, hearing the melody in my head and making it a reality. I have no lyrics yet, but those inevitably come when I get lost in the sound of the music and the words slowly start piecing together. It's already shaping up to be a full blown song in a matter of hours. I run to Damon's room and snag my song book before darting back to the piano and scribbling down the words that just hit me.

I play what is now the chorus over and over again until the words settle just the way I want them. They aren't quite there yet, but I'm okay with that. Sometimes I have to give my songs time to become what I want them to be. So I hammer out the melody some more. It flows quite easily. I get so absorbed in the music in my mind and the music around me, that when Damon settles his hands on my hips and nuzzles my neck, I almost jump off the piano stool.

"God, Damon!" I chastise him over the sound of his chuckling. _Asshole_.

He doesn't respond right away, instead his lips trace featherlight patterns on the side of my neck. The feeling is so distracting that soon I don't even remember what I was so angry about before .

"New song?" Damon asks against my skin.

My only response is a jerky nod. He's managed to completely derail me and turn me into a brainless mute.

"You know, I have quite the fantasy of you and this piano," he says, his voice low and husky and sexy as hell. I relax into his chest and wait for him to elaborate. "However, you are on top of the piano, not playing it."

My heart answers by pounding like mad in my chest. The scene he just described is now playing in HD in my head. _Fuck_. He slowly spins the stool around so I'm facing him, and his hands press flat onto the keys, sounding a terrible chord of notes, but I'm too far gone to care. With me caged in by his arms, he wastes no time pressing his lips to mine. My hands slip under his shirt and I press my palms flat against the warm skin of his lower back.

He kisses me so thoroughly that when he pulls back to remove my shirt, I'm breathless. And when he takes his own shirt off, revealing his toned chest, I stop breathing all together. I'll never get used to seeing him naked. I let my hands slide down his chest until they come in contact with his denim-clad erection. It seems to set him off and the next thing I know he's sweeping his arm across the lid to clear it of my notebook and pencil before he lifts me onto it. My feet hit the keys and another nasty chord plays, but neither of us even pay it any mind. All I can think about is Damon's mouth on my chest and his hands working to rid me of my shorts and underwear. I lean back on my hands as his fingers and mouth make contact with my center at the same moment. I let out a loud moan and it only spurs Damon on. I can't think about anything but him as he sends me flying.

I come down from my high just as Damon is unbuckling his belt and I watch with unashamed interest. As soon as he shucks his jeans from his legs, he's climbing up on top of the piano with me, hitting a few keys along the way. Before he can press my back down onto the hard surface, I, in a rare display of bravery, take the lead and push against his shoulders until he's the one laid flat. I waste no time straddling him, and capturing his lips with mine as his erection teases the place I want it most. My lips take their time as they make their way down Damon's neck and chest, paying special attention to his nipples before I give us both what we want.

I take hold of him, positioning him just right so I can sink down and take him all. We both cry out at the sensation and immediately fall into an intoxicating rhythm. I place my hands on his chest for leverage and I take him exactly how I want him, and by the groans and the lustful look in his eyes, it's exactly how he wants it too.

With the sounds he's making, the way he's watching me, my name on his lips and the powerful feeling of being in control, it doesn't take long for me to detonate once more. I'm lost to the feeling as Damon takes hold of my hips, thrusting up into me twice more - successfully prolonging my orgasm - before he joins me in oblivion.

I'm panting and collapsed against Damon's chest when reality seeps back in. _Holy shit_. I just had sex on a piano.

I can tell when Damon comes to, because his fingers drift up my thighs and trace aimless patterns on my sweat-slicked back. We lay in silence until our breathing calms. I love this quiet that we find ourselves in. It's comforting that we don't need words. We don't need anything but touches.

Damon is the one who finally breaks the silence. "That was ..."

"I know," I agree before he can bother to finish his sentence. Because I do know. He doesn't need to say more.

"Wow," he breathes, his voice has a hint of wonder that boosts my womanly pride.

"Yeah," I sigh. I can't believe I did something to make _The_ Damon Salvatore speechless, but all I know is that I want to do it again and again and again.

* * *

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	13. Feels Like Home

**Hey all! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews last chapter. You are all so amazingly supportive. **

**Big thank you to Jenn (Elvishgrrl) for beta'ing for me. She is awesomely talented. Read her stuff.**

**Another thank you to Patricia (bloody7 on Twitter) for making the AMAZING cover for this story. I love it so much. **

**Now onto the story...**

* * *

"Are you sure this dress is appropriate?" I ask Caroline hesitantly.

"Elena, for the last time, who is the professional stylist?" Caroline says with a dramatic sigh, placing her hands on her hips.

"You are," I mutter reluctantly.

"And who says this dress is going to wow the pants off every guest in attendance, including your mystery date?" she asks pointedly.

"You do," I sigh and turn my attention back to the stranger in the mirror.

Caroline has me dolled up to a 'T'. I have to give her credit for being a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to styling. There is nothing she's not good at. My hair is swept back into a low chignon at the nape of my neck. My make-up is flawless.

My eyes drift to my dress, the current root of all my anxiety. I wouldn't mind the dress so much if it wasn't for the color. The floor length dress has soft ruffles along the only shoulder strap. It fits me like a glove and I have to admit that I look good, but the fire engine red fabric makes me more than nervous. It's more va-va-voom than I've ever been comfortable with.

"Stop fretting over the color," Caroline snaps at me, pulling me out of another nervous fit. "You don't want to blend in with all those snobby people dressed in black. You're young, and you have the body to rock this dress."

I have to admit, I do look damn good. Damon's going to lose his mind that's was for sure.

"I guess you're right," I finally cave.

"Damn straight, I'm right," Caroline says triumphantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

The knock at my door halts my snarky comeback. Shit. I lost track of time. I was supposed to kick Caroline out about twenty minutes ago.

Caroline seems to process the same thing I just have because her eyes grow wide and a mischievous smile pulls at her lips.

"I'll get it!" she squeals, before darting toward the door.

I enter the living room just as she opens the door and lets out an accusing, "I knew it!"

"Caroline, we are just going as friends. I needed a date and Elena was free," I hear Damon explain easily.

He comes into my view, looking sinfully handsome in his fitted tux. How does he look just as good with his clothes on as he does with them off? Our eyes lock and I give him an exasperated shrug. He doesn't notice though because as soon as his eyes fall on me, his jaw nearly hits the ground. He pushes past Caroline into my apartment as his eyes rake over my body.

"If you two are just friends, then how come you're looking at her like you want to take her against the wall?" Caroline asks snarkily.

"Caroline!" I cry as I feel blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, I'll go and leave you two to screw like bunnies, but so help me, Salvatore, if you ruin her hair, I'll ruin your face," she threatens before gathering her cases of makeup and hair tools and leaving.

"Do you think she'll say anything?" I ask warily once the door clicks shut.

"Doubtful. Caroline is very loyal. She may be a gossip, but she wouldn't dare sell out a friend," he says and I swear I heard a little bit of adoration in his voice.

I let that sink in with relief. He's right and him trusting Caroline means a lot.

"You look amazing," he says, his voice low and seductive and his eyes gleaming with pure lust.

"Don't look at me like that," I warn, taking a step back - a step he quickly counters. My voice doesn't sound nearly as convincing as I want it to be.

"Like what?" he asks, trying to play innocent, but the smirk on his lips gives him away.

"You heard what Caroline said about my hair," I say and it's a weak defense even to my own ears. I take another step back and curse myself when my back collides with the wall. I'm stuck and I'm screwed.

Or soon going to be screwed.

"You and I both know I could fuck your brains out and not ruin a single hair on your pretty little head," he whispers in my ear as he presses the evidence of his arousal against my stomach. Everything south of my waistline clenches in sweet anticipation and I let out a needy whimper because I can't argue with him - he's totally right.

He places the softest and sweetest of kisses on my lips before he pulls away and chuckles. "But we'll be late if we do that, so we'll have to save it for later."

I nearly slap him. That arrogant son of a bitch.

* * *

The limo ride to the gala is filled with easy conversation between the two of us. I never realized how much we have in common. We have an extreme physical connection, but now I feel the intellectual bond strengthening between us.

He's funny and witty and he knows more about the environment than I ever expected. I learned that he actually loves animals and would have pets if he had more time to devote to them. I learn that he grew up in Tennessee and has never wanted to leave.

In turn he asks me about my family and the life I left behind in Mystic Falls. I tell him that I'm a dog person and that I am a terrible cook, which makes him laugh. I tell him about my dream vacation to DisneyWorld. The one place I would've killed to go to as a kid.

We pull up to the Gala just as I'm telling him about the time my brother, Jeremy, thought it'd be funny to cut my hair in my sleep. Damon's door is opened by the driver and my nerves come back with a vengeance. I can see the red carpet laid out and the wall of photographers on one side. The flashes from their cameras light up the inside of the limo.

Damon gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before he gets out of the limo, pulling me with him. Seeing him, the photographers go crazy. They are calling his name and whistling to get his attention and the best picture.

When they finally stop to notice that he has a date by his side, they really go crazy. Damon gives my hand one last squeeze before our respective entourages herd us apart. My small pack trails behind his as we pose for pictures and give interviews. I'm only asked about Damon a few times and I think I covered well, claiming that he's just immersing me into the world of music and celebrities. They ask about the reports that have been written about us together and I simply explain that not only is he producing my album, but he's also helping me write songs for it. They seem appeased by my explanations and I feel totally relieved. Damon is right, if we confirm a relationship between us that will be all I will be asked about at events like these.

I'm ushered around the side of the Opry House and out to the plaza where a giant open sided tent is set up. Once the shouts of the paparazzi die down, our entourages disperse and Damon is at my side not a second later. I smile when he offers his arm to me; he's obviously much more comfortable now that there aren't cameras everywhere.

He leads me to the tent and I'm totally in awe of how gorgeous it is. There are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, large tables with real flower centerpieces, and waiters in white tuxedos. They went all out. No wonder this is the most prestigious event around.

Damon practically struts around the venue, clearly comfortable with these people and events on this scale. He chats and laughs with every person we come in contact with. By the time we sit down for dinner, my cheeks ache from smiling and talking so much. I'm grateful for an excuse to not say anything for a little while. Once the food has been served and everyone has eaten, we listen to a few people speak on the importance of music in schools - the reason they have this fundraiser every year. I love the speeches and they inspire me to do more with my newfound stardom than just making music. I realize how much more power I have now, and how much I'll have after my album drops. I glance at Damon and I can tell this is something he holds close to his heart.

After dinner, the band starts up and Damon drags me onto the dance floor. I go willingly into his arms, despite my aversion to dancing in public. He's a smooth dancer and he's so easy to follow that he makes me look like I know what I'm doing.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks, his voice low and his breath tickles the shell of my ear.

"I am. Thank you for bringing me," I tell him, pulling back to give him a smile. "I love what the fundraiser is doing for music in schools."

"I figured you would," he says, responding with a smile of his own. "Music was always my way to avoid being at home," he adds softly and there is something in his voice that tugs at my heart.

What he has revealed is monumental and all I can picture is what would've happened to a young Damon had there not been a music program in his school.

We don't say any more as we dance several more dances together before Tobias Fell, the president of the Opry Council, cuts in and demands a dance from me. He is a sweet old man. I ask him about his inspiration to hold a fundraiser for this. He tells me that because of music in his school when he was a child, he met his late wife.

"Music has magical qualities," he tells me softly, "It changes people. Makes them better. Inspires them to love when they never knew they could."

His words speak to me on a whole other level and my eyes seek out Damon on their own accord. I watch him dancing with an older woman we had spoken to earlier in the evening. He's saying something to her with a large smile on his face and she looks at him with almost motherly adoration. And then his eyes lock with mine and everything seems to freeze for a moment, before my cheeks heat and I look away. It's suddenly all too much. I feel too much.

Then the song I wrote at Damon's that night comes rushing back into my mind.

_The sun is filling up the room_

_And I can hear you dreaming_

_Do you feel the way I do right now?_

_I wish we would just give up_

_Cause the best part is falling_

_Call it anything but love_

_And I will make sure to keep my distance_

_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_

_How long can we keep this up?_

Tobias gives me a knowing look when my eyes return to his and I blush in embarrassment.

"Don't be afraid to admit you're in love with him," he whispers to me.

I pull back in shock. How could he possibly know something like that when I don't even know for myself?

Before I have a chance to deny his assumptions, he steps back and thanks me for the dance before he disappears into the crowd and leaves me totally dumbfounded.

I don't have much time to dwell on it because a moment later, Damon's in front of me wearing a sly smirk. Without a word, he grabs my hand and tows me out of the tent and to a secluded, darkened corner of the plaza.

"Damon, what are we doing-"

He silences me by pressing his lips against mine. Right in the middle of my sentence. However, the movement of his lips over mine distracts me from getting too annoyed and it doesn't take long for me to melt under his kiss. Soon, all the pent up sexual frustration he brought out in me at the apartment now comes back ten-fold.

"I thought you could use a breather," he whispers when he finally pulls away from me, though he doesn't go far - his arm is wrapped firmly around my waist, and his other hand is still cupping my face.

"I'm not sure how much breathing I'd do with your lips attached to mine," I quip with a self-satisfied smirk. A smirk I'm sure I learned from him.

Our heads turn to the tent at the same moment as the band's singer announced the last dance of the evening. When I finally look up at Damon, his eyes are already on me. There's something unfamiliar hiding in their depths, something that makes my heart skip a beat. I push it to the back of my mind, not wanting to examine it too closely. I'm already having trouble with the fact that Tobias Fell called me out on my feelings far sooner than I'd ever wanted to face them myself.

"Shall we?" Damon asks me, holding out his arm for me to take.

I smile up at him and let him lead me to the dance floor as the music is just starting. Damon takes my hand in his and holds it to his chest as his arm snakes around my waist to pull me in close. I go willingly, molding myself to him and following his step as I listen to the music.

_Something in your eyes, makes me wanna lose myself_

_Makes me wanna lose myself, in your arms_

_There's somethin' in your voice, makes my heart beat fast_

_Hope this feeling lasts, the rest of my life_

The words hit a little too close to home for me. The strength of the feelings I have for Damon scare me on a level that I've never experienced in my entire life. I never wanted to feel this much for him. I always told myself what he could give me would be enough, but I never expected to feel like this. To be honest, it scares the shit out of me.

_If you knew how lonely my life has been_

_And how long I've been so alone_

_And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along_

_And change my life the way you've done_

Damon's eyes lock with mine and neither of us say a thing. I don't know what is happening between us in this moment, but it's strong. It feels very much like gravity. Something unavoidable, something I can't escape even if I tried.

_It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me_

_It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from_

_It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me_

_It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong_

We stand completely frozen even after the song ends, still caught up in this thing we have between us. It's almost intoxicating. I almost want out. I want to stay. I don't know what I want, but the way he is looking at me is overwhelming. It's bigger than me. It's almost more than I can handle.

Without breaking our little bubble, Damon tangles his fingers in mine and leads me through the crowd of people and to our car. I'm sure people are taking pictures of us like this, but I don't give it a second thought.

The limo drive is quiet, but the silence is nearly deafening. There are things being said even in the calm quiet inside the cab of the limo. We stay in our own seats, the only contact between us is where our hands are still joined. And somehow it's just enough for this moment.

We enter his penthouse and he only stops to shed his tuxedo jacket before taking my hand once more and leading me up the stairs and into his bedroom. Still no words are needed. No words would be appropriate. We don't need them.

His lips are on mine as soon as the door shuts. They are sweet and gentle against mine, two things Damon's kiss has never been before. His fingers are soft against my skin. Every touch and kiss is tender and holds something different than any time we've been together before.

Clothes are shed slowly and with purpose and when we are finally tangled up in each other on the bed, I hold him as close to me as possible. He intertwines his fingers with mine as he moves in and out of me with such strength. And when we finally find our release, our eyes never stray from each other's.

We made love tonight. It's a frightening and exciting thought. It changes things and I'm not sure if it's for better or for worse. I push the thoughts to the back of my mind as I snuggle closer into Damon wearing one of his shirts and he wraps himself around me.

I wake up slowly, the music from my dream still playing in my ears. However, it's morphed from a full band to a single acoustic guitar. As I further enter reality, I realize it's not from my dream, it's real music.

And then I hear a voice that seems to make time stand still.

Oh my God, Damon is singing again.

* * *

**And you all thought Katherine was going to show up... *evil laughter* **

**The songs from this chapter are:**

**Distance - Christina Perri**

**Feels Like Home - Chantal Kreviazuk**

**Also, a lot of people have asked me if we are going to see anything written in Damon's POV in this story. The answer is no. That's the point of having this in first person because we don't know what is going on in Damon's head, just like Elena doesn't know. **

**However, that doesn't mean you won't eventually read Damon's side of things in a companion piece...**

**Follow me on Twitter: rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love. Really, I love to read every single one. **


	14. Run

**Hello again! Let me just say all your reviews last chapter were amazing! You are all just too sweet to me. **

**This chapter took a little longer than I wanted it to. I just had some trouble deciding where what would go and there were several scenes I wrote and rewrote. Plus, trying to type with a cold and a sinus pressure headache is NOT fun at all. **

**But here is the chapter and you can all thank the amazing Jenn (elvishgrrl) for her astounding beta work. And to thank her, go read her stories. They are phenomenal.**

* * *

I crack my eyes open to make sure my ears don't deceive me. Nope, he's right there, guitar in hand, shirtless and softly singing along to the music. I am absolutely floored. How in the world did he find it in him to start writing again? I let myself lay back and listen to this miracle.

I don't realize that I'm staring until the music stops and he's staring right back at me.

"Did I wake you?" he asks softly.

I just shake my head. "What are you working on?" I ask hesitantly as I sit up and lean my back against the headboard.

"Just messing around," he shrugs nonchalantly.

I think he's trying to end this conversation, but I just can't let that happen. Not now. Not after the music I heard.

"Can I hear it?" I finally ask.

I wait for him to say no. For him to laugh in my face. Maybe to get angry, but he does none of those things. Instead, he tunes a string on the guitar and starts playing.

_"I wanna watch you undress_

_I wanna watch you glow_

_Let your hair down_

_All around, cover us both_

_You come in waves_

_We crash and we roll_

_You surround me, pull me, drown me, swallow me whole_

_You turn, turn, turn, turning me on_

_Like a slow fire burn _

_Know that it's wrong_

_Still I run, run, run, run right into you_

_Yeah, I run, run, run, run right into you."_

I'm struck dumb. I can't speak. I can hardly even form a sentence in my head. All I do is gape at him.

"So what do you think?" he asks, probably when he realizes I'm not going to say anything. But the insecurity in his voice pulls me right out of my own mind.

"It's gorgeous," I breathe and he smiles. And oh, what a beautiful smile.

"I actually was thinking that it'd be better as a duet," he adds.

I think about it for a second. I think about the lyrics and the story he's telling. I think back to the way the chorus sounded and how the chords flowed, then I try to hear another voice singing with his.

"Yeah, I can hear it too," I finally say. He nods his head in agreement and I love that he values my opinion as a musician.

"You wanna try it out?" he asks and I realize immediately where this is going. He's asking me to sing with him. I'm absolutely floored. The weight of this moment doesn't escape my notice whatsoever.

I'm very sure I'm smiling like an idiot when I reply, "I'd love to."

I move so I can lean over him to read the lyrics off of the sheet music in front of him.

_"You pull me in close_

_You buckle my knees_

_I shake and I shiver just to feel you breathe_

_You trace my lines_

_Stirring my soul_

_Shoot sparks at the heart of the world and I watch it explode."_

His voice joins mine as we sing the chorus and into the bridge.

_"I'm amazing when you're beside me_

_I am so much more."_

There is something so powerful about this moment and it goes beyond music, beyond anything I've ever experienced. It's surreal. I pour everything I have into this. For myself. For Damon.

_"And I feel your fingers_

_Pound like thunder_

_I am so much more."_

_"I'm so much more."_

It's quiet long after the music stops, both of us reflecting on how monumental that moment was. It was pure magic. There is something about the way our voices blend that sends shivers down my spine. So much was said between us in those moments that we were singing together. There were things being exchanged that go beyond words.

The blaring sound of my phone receiving an email breaks the intimate moment we're sharing. It hurts my heart to see Damon close up instantly. I worry that the depth of what we shared is going to scare him away and it makes my chest clench in pain.

A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I open my phone and get slapped with cold, hard reality. There is an email from Caroline and I roll my eyes, her gossiping ways never take a day off.

I swipe my finger across the screen and one word leaves my mouth.

"Shit."

Not only does this photo change how people see me, it's going to change my relationship with Damon. I know it. I'm sure he's already freaking out from the song thing. This is not good. Not good at all.

"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter as I scroll through the article that Caroline linked in her email.

_"Despite the fact that they showed up together, Damon and Elena spent their time on the red carpet separately, further proving that their relationship is strictly one of a producer and a musician. Well, until the two were spotted a while later outside the venue. By the looks of these pictures, they are much more than just a producer and his musician."_

It keeps getting worse. There are pictures of us outside the tent when Damon kissed me and pictures of our short conversation that took place right after, still totally wrapped up in each other - physically and mentally.

"Elena?" Damon's voice breaks through my rapid thoughts. "What is it?"

"Nothing," I reply quickly, knowing full well how idiotic it is. He's going to see the pictures soon enough. Why lie about it? Maybe because I want to pretend they don't exist for just a little longer.

"It's not nothing judging by the amount of expletives that just fell out of your mouth," Damon said with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry about it," I mumble and mentally slap myself on the forehead. He's going to find out and why I'm trying to put off the inevitable, I have no idea.

Next thing I know, my phone is being ripped out of my hand. My head snaps to Damon who is scrolling through the article I was just staring at. The silence is killing me while he reads the link Caroline sent me. He's going to be so pissed.

"Damn, those paps are sneaky," he says when he finally hands my phone back.

"You're not angry?" I ask hesitantly.

He's quiet for a moment, not looking at me as he tries to come up with an explanation. "There is no use crying over spilled milk. Besides, it was going to get out sooner or later," he says with a shrug before picking up his guitar and strumming out a few chords.

I gape at him. His lack of reaction disappoints me. I kind of wish he'd get defensive about our relationship, at least it'd mean he cared enough to feel something. His reaction was nothing like I'd expected. But then again, when has Damon Salvatore ever done the expected?

* * *

Saltzman Records' private jet is quiet as I fly back to Tennessee. It's been a crazy month of mixing and finalizing the record. I just finished a two-week long circuit of talk shows, photo shoots, live performances, interviews and award shows.

Damon and I have been busy trying to dodge the paparazzi, who will try anything to get a photo of the two of us together. And it's not doing anything good for our relationship. After that morning in his bed when he finally sang and wrote something for the first time in two years, he's been putting distance between us. I can't say I'm surprised. I knew it would eventually come, but it hasn't made it hurt any less.

The sun is just beginning to set when we land and I feel relief immediately. Nashville has become my home over the past few months. I miss my family, of course, but I finally feel like I've found the place I belong.

I grab my bags and exit the plane once it's stopped. As I descend the stairs, I see Damon standing in front of his car on the tarmac. He looks sinfully good in his black boots, jeans, black button up, and his black cowboy hat. Seeing him totally throws me off. As far as I knew, I was supposed to be picked up by a driver and taken back to my place, but I'm not complaining.

I slowly walk toward him, afraid that he may disappear like a mirage if I move too quickly. But the next thing I know, he's closing the distance between us with two easy strides and then I'm in his arms and his face is buried in my hair. And it just feels so _good_. So I don't question it any further, and wrap my arms around his waist and hold him as tight as he is holding me.

He pulls back just enough to capture my lips in a scorching kiss. I am absolutely shocked. He has not shown this much emotion toward me in almost a month. Not that we haven't slept together, but every move he's made, every touch has been emotionless. Like he's concentrating so hard on not letting himself appear vulnerable like he was that morning.

He pulls away once he's left me completely breathless and he looks pretty damn satisfied with himself.

"Hi," he says softly while he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I can't help my smile.

"Hey," I reply as he pulls away and takes my bags from me.

"How was the trip?" he asks once we are settled into his car and on the road.

"Long," I sigh as I relax into the plush seat. "But good."

As he drives, my eyes begin to droop. The past two weeks of non-stop traveling and appointments is catching up to me. And now that I'm finally home, it's all hit me at once and I still have my album release party to attend tonight.

I'm fighting off sleep, but it's a losing battle.

And then oh-so faintly, I hear Damon's voice cut through the fog, "I've missed you."

* * *

"Elena," Damon's voice is soft as he shakes me awake. I crack one eye open and see that we're in the parking garage of Damon's penthouse.

Next time I open my eyes, I'm in Damon's arms as he's walking in his front door. I murmur groggily and I can feel his chest vibrate with laughter.

"You gotta wake up, Elena," he says as he sets me on a barstool at the breakfast bar. "Caroline is going to be here soon."

At the mention of Caroline, I groan again. I know tonight is my big night, but I'm just so tired. My head falls into my hands as I listen to Damon move around the kitchen. I'm slowly regaining consciousness after my too-short nap in Damon's car, but it's a long and grueling process. My ears perk up, though, when I hear the telltale sounds of coffee being made.

Praise. The. Lord.

Damon chuckles as he slides a mug in front of me and my eyes pop open. It tastes like heaven and it's already doing wonders for my energy.

"I watched some of your interviews on TV," Damon says while I'm downing my coffee.

"Did I look stupid?" I ask with a grimace.

"No, you looked like you've been doing this for years," he says seriously. The compliment makes my heart flutter. His compliments are not common, but they mean more than anyone else's.

I'm still beaming from his comment when Caroline's voice comes over the intercom. Damon pushes a few buttons to let her up to the penthouse while I finish off my coffee and prepare myself for one more evening of schmoozing and fake smiles.

Caroline bursts through the entryway a few minutes later in a furry of blonde hair and an arsenal of beauty products. She looks as if she's prepared to make over the entire US population, which she would if that were physically possible.

"Ready for your big night?" Caroline asks excitedly.

As much as it's my big night, it's also hers as well. Everyone's eyes will be on me and they'll be wondering who is the master behind my hair, clothes and make up. Every time she puts me in a dress that lands me on a 'Best Dressed' list, she gets requests galore from other celebrities wanting her to style them.

"Have fun, ladies," Damon says as I follow Caroline out of the kitchen and to the guest bedroom. I can hear the smirk in his voice and I'm so irritable it makes me want to give him a hug. Around the neck. With my hands. I roll my eyes. _Asshole_.

Caroline talks animatedly about all my outfits over the past two weeks. She was with me for every big outing I had while I was in LA until she had to fly back home for a family gathering. Luckily she was there to dress me for every televised event I had to attend, though when I went out and about, I was on my own.

She chatters on about the new celebrity clients she has and what events she's styling them for. It's easy to get excited with her. She deserves every bit of recognition she gets for her amazing talent. I firmly believe she is the best of the best. However, for purely selfish reasons, I don't want her too in demand, because I don't want to compete with anyone for her time. I'd be a style-less lost cause without her.

When she finishes an hour later, I marvel that she's done it again. I'm dressed casually, in a pair of navy high-waisted shorts with a red striped shirt that's tucked in. I look totally retro with a pair of the most amazing red pumps, red lipstick, and wavy hair topping it all off. Again, Caroline is a styling genius.

Seeing myself all dressed up in the mirror changes my entire outlook on the night. Instead of dreading being the center of attention, I'm actually excited for it.

As I admire myself in the mirror, my phone starts ringing from its spot on the bed. I rush over to the bed - which is a feat in itself in these heels - and answer without checking the caller ID.

"Hey, baby!" my mom's voice greets me. It's been ages since I've been able to talk to her and I haven't realized how much I've missed her until I hear her voice.

"Hi, Mom," I reply with a huge smile as I plop down onto the bed.

"I wanted to make sure I caught you before the release party," she says. "And to tell you how proud of you we are." I can almost see her pleased smile. I miss her so much.

"Thank you, Mom. For everything," I say and my voice catches a little. I have to reign in my emotions or else I'm in danger of ruining Caroline's masterpiece.

"Oh, honey. We're so proud of the way you've handled yourself with all the media surrounding you," she tells me in a thick voice.

"Thank you," I say again. And I mean it. I mean it every time I say it. My parents have done so much for me, raised me to be a good person. I have so much that I owe to them.

"So how's Damon?" my mom asks once she composes herself. I roll my eyes. I know she's just been waiting for a chance to ask.

"He's good," I answer reluctantly.

"Is he treating you right?" she asks pointedly.

"Yeah, he is," I answer honestly. He has treated me right. Especially with how hard it is for him to feel something for someone.

Damon appears in the doorway - speak of the devil - and I quickly tell my mom that I love her and disconnect the call. He's wearing the same thing he wore to pick me up from the airport. He looks amazing, as always.

"How is your mom?" he asks in the elevator.

I'm surprised that he knows who I was talking to. Perhaps he was standing in that doorway much longer than I realized.

"She's good," I finally answer.

"You miss her," he says and it's not a question. My reply is a inquiring look and he replies immediately, "It was the look on your face when you were hanging up."

"I miss her a lot," I reply. "But I finally feel like I'm where I belong."

* * *

The red carpet is rolled out and in full swing by the time we arrive. The crowd of photographers and fans go crazy when I step out of the car. I spend a lot of time signing autographs and taking pictures with fans. They are always my favorite part. They are so sweet and nice and I genuinely want to just be friends with every single one of them. I would stay out here all night if Bonnie doesn't come and force me to move along the carpet.

I've slowly become accustomed to the way the red carpet works. I walk, pose, smile, turn, pose again, and then get moved along by whatever entourage I have corralling me. Then I give a few interviews and enter the venue. It's all very basic.

Every venue and event is different, unlike the red carpet, which is the same no matter what event I'm at. There are always new people, a new place to sit, new things to see or to watch. It's the exciting part and it's easy for me to blend into the crowd and fly under the radar. However, tonight when I walk into the ballroom we had my first press conference in, everyone stops talking and turns to see me enter.

"Everyone, please welcome our guest of honor, Elena Gilbert," Alaric says from his place on a small stage across the room. The lights are dim, but there is a spotlight on me and one on Ric.

The room bursts into applause as I cross the room to where Ric is waving his arm at me to come up onto the stage. I'm sure my face is red from all this attention. The crowd parts easily for me and people offer me congratulations as I walk past them.

"This album is truly a labor of love. Watching Elena work on this was astounding. The reverence and humility she displays is beyond anything I've ever seen. Not to mention, she has a talent that is rivaled by no one," Ric says into his microphone as I stand awkwardly next to him. I have no idea what to do in this situation.

"So, Elena," Ric continues as he hands me a glass of champagne. "Congratulations on dropping your very first album! Cheers!"

Ric and I click our glasses as everyone in the crowd follows suit. The champagne is refreshing and just what I needed tonight. I'm relieved that I can finally leave the bright lights of the stage, but Ric stops me and tells the audience that I will perform a song from my record.

Wait. _What?_

My band comes up on stage all smiles and once they settle behind their instruments they look at me expectantly, waiting for me to pick which song we'll perform. In a snap decision, I choose my song 'Good Girl'. The irony doesn't hit me until about halfway through the song when my eyes find Damon's in the crowd and I see him smiling and shaking his head.

I finish the song and bow to the applauding crowd before I make a quick exit from the stage. I try to find Damon, but every few steps I get stopped by somebody that wants to congratulate me. I'm finishing up a conversation with another producer at the studio when I spot Damon walking over to us. My lips pull up into a smile on their own accord as I watch him near us, his hands in his pockets.

I excuse myself from the conversation and walk over to Damon. He doesn't hesitate to wrap an arm around my waist, pull me in close and place a soft kiss on my lips.

"You enjoying your big night?" he asks in my ear as his other hand pulls mine to his chest and he starts swaying to the music playing over the speakers. Right here in the middle of the crowd. But I don't mind. I slide my hand over his shoulder and hold him to me.

"Yeah, I am. I never dreamed this day would actually come," I reply, settling my cheek against his chest and reveling in the way our bodies fit together.

"You deserve this, Elena," he says, pulling back to look me right in the eyes.

"Damon?" a woman's voice interrupts, just as I open my mouth to respond to him.

Damon goes completely still and I can feel the tension begin flowing out from him. I'm almost afraid to turn around to see who has burst our happy bubble. Though, the next word from Damon solves the mystery.

"Kat?"

Kat? I turn around and when I see her face, it all clicks. It's all in the way she's looking - no, _gazing_ - at him.

I've come face to face with the woman who single handedly ruined Damon's life.

Katherine.

That bitch.

* * *

**Did we all love the song Damon wrote or what?**

**The song is called Run by Matt Nathanson ft. Sugarland. I've been waiting for ages to put it in this story.**

**I know we were all just waiting for the moment Katherine shows up. Well here she is and she's gonna cause a bit of trouble. I mean, for one of my stories, we've not had NEARLY enough angst, right?**

**Thank you all so, so much for taking time to read and for those who have taken a moment to review. Your kind words mean the world to me, they really do. I mean it when I say reviews are love. They are. **


	15. Haunted

**WOW. Your reviews constantly blow me away. You are all so, so kind and sweet and make me feel awesome. **

**Big thanks to Jenn (Elvishgrrl) for being my awesome beta. If you haven't started yet, read her story, Bumps. It's SO good. **

**I know you've all been waiting for things to get angsty. Well... here you go! Don't say I didn't warn you.**

* * *

I'm glaring. I know I'm glaring, but I just can't help it. I'm standing where they left me, chugging my champagne and watching Damon and Katherine talk quietly in the corner. She says something to him and he's shaking his head. Then she replies, taking a step closer to my man. _My man_, bitch. Get your fucking claws off him. Now he looks pissed. Good. Tell her off, Damon!

He rips his arm from her grasp and turns and storms out of the ballroom. Katherine stands there a moment as if she'd been slapped. If she stays there much longer, she _will_ be slapped. She glances around the room looking almost... timid? I see right through it. And then she, too, exits the ballroom.

"Elena, have you seen Damon?" Ric's voice comes from behind me.

"He just walked outside. Katherine was here," I tell him because if anyone knows how to handle this situation, it's Ric. I watch my words wash over him and his face goes from searching to 'oh-shit' in about four seconds. He says nothing more as he hurries out to find Damon.

My intense worry for Damon turns into burning anger when Ric comes back inside a half hour later and tells me that Damon left. He left me. Alone. With no ride home. On the night of my release party. The one night I need him by my side, he lets Katherine get under his skin and he leaves me. Without even saying goodbye. Without even telling me.

"What kind of man leaves his date on her big night?" A voice comes from behind me, interrupting my inner fuming.

I turn to see a tall man about Damon's age standing there with a gentle smile on his face. He's tan like a surfer and built like a swimmer and I recognize him immediately. Mason Lockwood. He took over Damon's spot as country music's bad boy when Damon went off the radar. Normally I'd smile and make small talk, but I'm pissed off and just realizing what he's said to me.

"Excuse me?" I ask, a little more bitchy than I intend. I mean, maybe I heard him wrong? Probably not.

"I said, what kind of man leaves his beautiful date on her big night? And without even saying goodbye," he replies. His smile is warm and I'm sure he's not intending to be a douche bag, but he is. He's basically admitting to spying on me while I watched my boyfriend storm out because of his ex-fiancée. I feel a little violated.

"I don't mean to be rude," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest, "but I don't see how that's any of your business."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off like an ass. I'm Mason."

I glance at his outstretched hand apprehensively.

"I know who you are," I respond tersely. He seems nice enough and it's not his fault that I'm in a terrible mood.

"Alright." He throws his hands up in mock-surrender. "I know when to take a hint." Then he turns and starts walking away.

"Wait," I call reluctantly. Damn it. Now I feel bad. But he still stops and turns back toward me. "I'm sorry. I'm the one being an ass. I'm just exhausted and a little grouchy."

He closes the distance between us again. His smile is nice. I guess.

"Well, there is only one way to make it up to me," he says with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"How?" I ask suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Dance with me." His easy demeanor softens me. It's almost just what I need, especially when I'm feeling this insecure.

Seeing Katherine tonight rattled me more than I care to admit. But in a single word it makes me insecure. Insecure about my relationship with Damon. Insecure about myself. And insecure about his feelings for me. I hate it. I've never been this girl. I've also never felt for anyone the way I feel for Damon. It's all so damn confusing.

I look up at Mason now, who is giving me his full attention and offering me the fun night I should be having, and because I'm so angry with Damon, I don't hesitate when I reply, "Okay."

This seems to light up his fucking world. He takes my hand in his and leads me to the small area where a few people are dancing. His hands wrap around me and pull me close. A little too close, but I'm not going to complain.

"I know you've been hearing this all night, but you are extremely talented," he says into my ear. His warm breath tickles across my skin and I can't decide if I'm uncomfortable with him so close or not.

"Thank you," I say, pulling back to look him in the face and subtly putting a little distance between us.

"Other than the M.I.A. boyfriend," he continues, not even noticing my move away from him, "how are you enjoying your night so far?"

I roll my eyes at his not-so-subtle dig.

"Okay, okay," he laughs. "Even I'll admit that was pretty low."

The laugh sputters out of my mouth all of its own accord. I have to admit, he's very easy to get along with. And my bad mood has been lightening ever since he walked up to me.

"But it got you to laugh, so I can't find it in me to regret it," he smiles sincerely.

"You are shameless," I laugh and roll my eyes.

Mason is exactly what I need tonight. Dancing with him only takes my mind off of Damon for just a little while, but it's a relief.

And when Mason offers me a ride home, I accept. Mostly just to stick it to Damon. When we walk out together, I find myself hoping that photographers snap pictures of us leaving so Damon can see it first thing in the morning. It's immature, I know it is, but I can't bring myself to care.

* * *

There is someone pounding on my door and I feel a momentary pang of panic. Since the stalker letters, I've had a hard time sleeping alone and whoever is at my door isn't helping my fears. I creep out of my bed and check the peephole to see Damon standing on the other side. The pain and embarrassment from earlier this evening come back in full force as I rip the door open.

"It's 3:00 am, Damon," I hiss, angling my body so I'm blocking my doorway.

"Let me in, Elena." He slurs his words slightly, not bothering to wait for an answer as he pushes past me into my apartment. He smells of alcohol and campfire. Where the hell has he been?

"What do you want, Damon?" I ask. I'm just so tired. Tired of him, tired of this drama, and just plain tired. I want to go back to bed. I don't have the patience to do this. Not tonight.

"You," he says, his voice husky and then he has me pinned against my front door and his mouth is moving against mine. It's rough and I can feel his anger - I can also feel something else, something more physical and very, very hard.

I push him away with all my might, even resorting to pulling his hair. Hard. He finally rears back and stares at me as if I'd just sprouted a second head.

_Yeah, I'm denying you._

"No, you don't get to treat me like shit earlier and then show up expecting a booty call," I snap at him, pushing at his chest to put more distance between us.

"That's not what this is," he says as he drops his head on my shoulder and breathes into the skin of my neck.

"Not tonight, Damon," I sigh, sagging against the door. "I'm still fucking livid with you."

His head pops up off my shoulder and his eyes are alight with something close to excitement.

"Take it out on me," he whispers earnestly.

"What?" I ask, because I'm pretty fucking confused.

"Don't hold back, Elena," he says, his voice low as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Give it all to me."

Something snaps inside me and I find myself burying my hands in his hair to pull him toward me. I kiss him with everything I have, taking everything out on him. My anger bubbles to the surface and I let it all out. He's upset and he's hurting and he clearly needs this from me. So I slide my hands to his chest and push his jacket off his shoulders. His response is like a stick of dynamite finally detonating. His hands are everywhere at once and our clothes quickly disappear as we stumble into my bedroom.

We're both naked when we fall onto the bed. He wastes no time positioning himself and thrusting into me without warning. The intrusion has me crying out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Very quickly, however, the pain dissipates completely. There is something so carnal about this moment that is almost cathartic. He's not holding back with me and in return, I'm not either. He grabs onto the headboard and starts a pounding rhythm. I dig my nails into the skin of his back and just hold on and let the waves of pleasure crash over me. I can feel the stress and anger in every move he makes, but I can hear what I'm doing to him in the way he breathes into my ear and I can see it on his face when he rears up over me, letting his orgasm sweep him away and taking me with him. God, he's beautiful.

He collapses on top of me, both of us breathing heavily, and I welcome his weight. I run my hands up and down his sweat-slicked back. The fight has completely gone out of him now. His whole body seems to have relaxed.

The calm inside of me doesn't last long when I realize that I have no idea what to say now. I'm still upset with what happened earlier, but he's obviously shaken by Katherine's return, yet I know he doesn't want me to bring that up, either. He ends up rolling off me and pulling me into his arms. By the time I come up with something to say, he's asleep.

Sleep is elusive despite how exhausted I am, so I spend the night watching Damon sleep. His face is so relaxed and he looks so innocent while he sleeps. His lips are parted slightly and I can't stop my fingers from reaching out and feeling how soft they are.

7:00 am finally rolls around and I decide that I can't lie here any longer. So I get up, shower, dress and head to the kitchen to find something to eat. I click on the TV to fill the silence. I'm searching the cabinets and fridge for something to eat when I hear Damon's name on the TV. I walk into the living room to see what they are talking about.

My TV is turned onto the news and there is a large caption in the corner of the screen.

"Damon Salvatore's Mansion. Arson?"

I sit on the edge of the couch and listen closely.

"Reports have been flying in since about two this morning that country music mogul Damon Salvatore's countryside mansion caught on fire early this morning. The mansion, which he shared with his ex-fiancée, Katherine Pierce, was vacant when it went up in flames. No one was harmed and the fire was contained after a neighbor called 9-1-1. Investigators suspect it was arson, but we have no further information this morning."

As I listen to the reporter, Damon staggers out of my bedroom in only a pair of sweats from the clothes he has here. He freezes when the words from the news report hit him.

And then it all clicks, like a fucking epiphany. Damon and Katherine fighting. Damon appearing at my door at 3:00 am drunk and smelling like smoke._ Oh my God_.

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Neither of us moving; neither of us uttering a single word. But his eyes change. I see the sheer panic in them disappear behind those walls he's erecting again. He knows I know. And he's ready to bail out.

I'm sure as hell not letting that happen.

"What did she do to you?" My voice is shaky and timid, but the impact is exactly the opposite.

"Elena, let's not do this."

I see the resignation on his face before I even hear his words. He's already checked out. I refuse to let this happen. He may get away with this shit with anyone else, but not me. He means too much to me. I can't let this go. Not without a fight.

"No," I snap, muting the TV and rising from my seat on the couch. "We are doing this because this," I jab my finger in the direction of the TV screen, "is beyond you and me."

"Actually, it has nothing to fucking do with you," he says acidly.

His comment stings, but I know that was his goal, so I ignore it and push on.

"I'm worried about you, Damon." My voice is soft now and I'm slowly closing the distance between us, afraid he'll spook and run any second now. "Katherine obviously affected you last night and whatever she did to you all those years ago still haunts you."

I know I've hit the nail on the head because excruciating pain flashes across his face before he quickly arranges his face into a mask of indifference.

"Just shut up right now," he warns, shaking his head and backing away from me as if trying to escape the plague. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"No, I don't," I agree. "But I want to help you." I hear my voice quiver and I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes. I don't want to cry, I need to be strong for Damon. I can't make him feel like I'm pitying him.

"God," he spits, and runs two very stressed hands through his hair. He's looking around my apartment frantically, as if looking for an escape before he levels me with a death glare so intense, it sends shivers down my spine. "You're just like everyone else. All anyone wants to do is fix me. Well guess what? I'm not fucking broken," he enunciates every syllable of his last sentence. Every word is like a knife. His pain goes so much deeper than I could've ever imagined.

"No, you're not." I'm shaking my head now, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, because it hurts me to see him like this. "But this isn't healthy, Damon."

"And why do you even care?" His voice is harsh, but the look on his face is that of a little boy. So scared, so angry, so haunted by things that aren't even his fault.

I search my mind desperately for the words that will make him understand. Anything to take that look off of his face. Anything to convey the reason I'm different.

"Because I love you, Damon," I declare, in a voice much stronger than I feel. "And that's what people do when they love someone. They care."

Instead of looking relieved, he looks like I've slapped him. Like the very words from my mouth make him sick. This is all spiraling out of control so fast. I'm watching him slip from my fingers, helpless to do anything about it. It makes me want to scream because I have no clue how to fix it. I can't lose him. I doubt my heart will be able to handle it.

"Well that makes you a fucking idiot," he seethes. The way he's looking at me nearly breaks me in two. It's the same look he gave Katherine when she showed up last night. "You know what? I'm done here. I'm done with you and this stupid fake relationship. I was so fucking stupid to even agree to it."

No, no, no, no. This can't be happening. I'm grasping at straws here, trying to find something - anything - to say to make him stay. I just need him to stay. I need to make this better. He can't leave me. My heart is pounding and my thoughts are running at a million miles a minute.

As I'm mid panic, he scoops his keys off of the counter where he left them early this morning and heads toward the door.

_NO!_

"Damon," I call his name, but he ignores me. He doesn't even flinch.

"Damon!" I'm screaming his name now, tears streaming down my cheeks and then the door slams shut. The sound echoes in my mind and then there is nothing. Nothing but stark silence.

Tears pour silently down my cheeks as I stand in the aftermath of our fallout. Alone in the middle of my living room that now feels like a battlefield – with me the only casualty.

I'm not sure how long I stand here, letting the silence eat me alive, but my tears have run dry and all I feel is empty and so tired. I know that sometime very soon the weight of what just happened will hit me and I'm just waiting for it to come. I know better than to think he'll come back through that door and apologize, beg for my forgiveness for being so harsh.

No, this is really over.

We ended up just like his mansion.

In flames.

* * *

**Oh what a tangled web we weave...**

**Everyone still alive? We all still okay? **

**I know there are a lot of questions, what happened with Katherine? What happened with Damon's house? But those answers will probably come when Damon's POV is written. Like Elena, we have no idea what is really happening in Damon's world. But we'll find out eventually. I promise.**

**Follow me on the Twittah machine to get updates, spoilers, and to just say hi. Rachellebelle08**

**Your reviews are so amazing, how about some more? They really keep me going and I especially want your reactions to this chapter! **


	16. Undo It

**Hello! This chapter gave me hell. I'll tell ya. **

**Thanks to Jenn for being my amazing beta and letting me bother her. She's finishing her story, Bumps, and you all need to go read it.**

**Thank you for the support, you guys. It means the world.**

* * *

It's been 48 long hours.

48 hours since Damon walked out my door without a backward glance.

48 hours since my heart shattered into a million pieces.

48 hours of pure female wallowing. Soul-shaking sobs. And a lot of song writing.

I've spend the better part of the past two days wearing Damon's clothes and talking myself out of calling him at all hours of the night. The earth-shattering sadness has given way to other emotions. Anger, confusion, longing, to name a few. I'm an emotional mess. It's embarrassing, really. Yet, I can't help but worry about what Katherine did to him that set him off so badly, and what she did to him years ago that still affects him that much. But then his parting words seep back into my mind.

I've replayed that night and morning in my head over and over more times than I can count. His face when he saw Katherine. The way he showed up at my apartment and coaxed me into bed with him. The hatred in his eyes when I tried to reach out to him, to shoulder some of his pain. And the way he spat his final words to me.

_"You know what? I'm done here, I'm done with you and this stupid fake relationship. I was so fucking stupid to even agree to it."_

And then I hate him again.

But I still love him.

I'm a mess.

I gave myself 48 to mourn the end of my relationship with Damon, because as far as I'm concerned, it's never coming back. It's dead and gone. It died the moment he slammed that door. And now I've accepted that Damon is a fucked up sonofabitch who can't be helped until he's ready and willing to be, no matter how much it hurts me that he's hurting. No matter how much I want to be there for him. None of it makes a difference as long as he refuses to let anyone in.

However, my 48 hours are up and now, just like I promised myself, I have to get dressed and get back into the normal world. I'm praying Bonnie will call with a publicity opportunity that will take me out of Tennessee for a while. I want to run away even though I know I need to stay here. I need to face him. I need to be brave.

I feel bad that I blocked Bonnie and Caroline out of my darkest hours. They'd been calling and texting wanting to know what I was up to. They figured out something was wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them. To reach out to them. I just wanted to suffer alone for a while.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I've used some of the make up techniques that Caroline has taught me, did my hair and dressed in my cutest casual clothes. I will be seen today and I will not look like the broken girl I am when it happens. I can do this. I can do this.

I decide to take a drive to the small shopping square on the outskirts of town that I found during my first few weeks here. It's so quiet here that I'm free to roam without being bombarded by strange men wielding larger-than-life cameras. Here I only run into the occasional sweet fan asking for an autograph and a picture. Today is no different, except for a few more fans than usual, probably because of my album release just two days ago. I do wonder how people are enjoying it. Oh well, I'll find out on Monday when I have to show my face at the studio again.

An hour or so of shopping later, I decide to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and eat at a little bistro on the sidewalk. I've enjoyed being out and about and feeling like a normal human again without having to worry about relaying the details of my break-up to anyone because I'm still not ready for the entire fucking world to know about it. But I need to reach out, I need my friends. I don't want to suffer alone anymore. So I promise myself to call Caroline and arrange a girl's day after I finish lunch.

I sit back in my chair, satisfied with my game plan for the rest of the day. I breathe in the warm summer air and I feel myself relax for the first time in almost three days. I haven't been able to relax since the moment Katherine showed her face at my party, effectively bringing my entire world to a screeching halt. So far today has been just what I need.

Well, until Mason Lockwood plops himself into the open seat across from me. How in the world did he find me here?

"Fancy seeing you here," he says, by way of greeting.

I sigh. And here I was getting my mellow on. Well, there goes any relaxed feelings I might have had.

"Hi, Mason. Why don't you have a seat?" I retort sarcastically. His smile only gets bigger and I nearly smile in response. Which only irks me more. What is it with this guy?

"I like you," he declares, pointing his finger at me playfully. "You don't put up with anyone's bullshit."

I blush. I fucking blush. Here I am, two days after I was dumped and I'm sitting with a man I barely know, blushing. _Blushing!_ This is ridiculous.

"Do you need something, Mason?" I sigh, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

He just looks at me for a moment and I pull my arms closer, suddenly feeling exposed.

"Are you okay, Elena?" he asks softly, and the concern in his voice nearly opens up the floodgates again.

Shit! Maybe I should've given myself 72 hours to wallow, because clearly I'm nowhere near finished.

"It's nothing," I mutter, dropping my gaze to my lap.

"It's obviously not nothing, Elena." His voice is so gentle that I hesitantly lift my eyes to see the concern in his. "You seem really upset."

My initial weariness of Mason recedes a little with his quiet prodding. He looks like he genuinely cares, and it's such a stark difference from Damon, so I spill.

"Damon and I broke up," I finally tell him, and to his credit, he doesn't crack the smug smile I was expecting.

"I hate to say it," he sighs, "but anyone who leaves their date at her first album release party doesn't deserve you. And somehow I'm sure that's not the first thing he's done to you."

I say nothing and I'm sure it speaks louder than any words can.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I finally admit.

Mason's smile is warm and comforting and I relax once more. Despite my initial wariness of him, I actually feel a sort of kinship growing between us. Probably because he seems to understand me more than I could've ever expected, and right now I'm in no position to turn down a friend.

Maybe it's because Mason is so different from Damon. Maybe it's because Mason wears his heart on his sleeve, unlike Damon who's has his heart is surrounded by a military-strength fortress. Maybe it's because I'm hurting and Mason is everything Damon isn't. He's soft and kind and warm, someone that I could see forming a deep friendship with. The kind of bond that would be unbreakable. He's not intense, overbearing, controlling and closed off.

"I actually do have a reason to be bothering you," he says, and I know he's changing the subject on purpose instead of pressing me for details I'm not prepared to give, and for that, I'm grateful. "I promise I wasn't stalking you. This just happens to be my favorite place to be in public where I don't get bombarded by the paps. But since I was going to come into the studio on Monday anyway to discuss this with you and Alaric..."

Now he has my full attention. I've never had another artist need anything from me.

"What did you want to discuss?" I ask. He's successfully drawn me out of my post-Damon slump and piqued my curiosity. I brace myself for anything because I have no idea what to expect.

"I want to discuss the possibility of bringing you on tour with me. As my opening act."

All I hear is the word tour. I've been dreaming my entire life about going on tour. But never did I imagine that the biggest act in country music - and one of the biggest in music period - would be asking me to open for him.

"Elena? Did you hear me?" he asks, pulling me from my racing thoughts.

I blush again and shake my head, totally embarrassed. He only laughs in response and I can't help but join him.

"I said that it's going to be a big commitment, but I want you to think about it before I take it up with Alaric and your publicist. It's a world tour. We're talking a six month commitment," he explains. "Just take the weekend to think about it and I'll set up a meeting with Ric on Monday and we'll discuss the details further. I think it'll be a really good thing for you. Just take some time to think about it and I'll see you on Monday."

I give him a small wave as he rises from the table and disappears down the sidewalk, attracting many appreciative glances as he goes.

I eat my lunch deep in thought, mulling over the idea Mason just pitched to me. He's right, it is a big decision, but getting the hell out of here - getting away from Damon - sounds really tempting. Not to mention, it'd be amazing for my music. Touring the entire world is a chance of a lifetime and I'd be an idiot not to seriously consider it.

This is just the boost I need to face Damon on Monday.

* * *

My first thought waking up Monday morning is _when the fuck did Monday get here?_

I spent most of the weekend with Bonnie and Caroline, drinking, shopping, and man-bashing. I told them everything about what happened with Damon and me. They were the perfect girlfriends, calling him every name in the book. It felt so good getting that out and having someone to turn to. They let me cry and vent and even listened to one of the songs I wrote.

I also informed them of my two meetings with Mason, to which they swooned and then freaked about him inviting me on tour with him. Caroline said I should've agreed immediately, but Bonnie said I was smart to wait the weekend to make a final decision.

I'm so stoked to discuss the option of going on tour with Mason. Six months spent traveling the world, performing in sold-out arenas full of screaming fans, and six months away from Damon. I couldn't care less if it makes me seem weak, I just really need time away from him to move on. This is my chance to get away, get over him, and come back stronger than ever.

So, I pull myself out of bed a half hour early and take extra care to do my hair and make up. It might be immature, but like hell I'm going to see Damon for the first time since our fallout looking like, well, like hell.

I walk into the conference room at the studio and I'm relieved that Damon isn't here yet. I spent the whole drive over preparing myself and telling myself that he will not affect me, that I only have to put up with him for another week before I get to disappear into rehearsals for this tour. After the weekend of weighing the pros and cons, I've decided that I'm gonna do it. And not just because of Damon, but because this is my real chance. This is exactly what I've been working for, to take my music to the masses. To see them face to face. To hear crowds of people singing my songs. I'd be an idiot to turn down an opportunity this big.

Mason walks in with Bonnie and Alaric a few minutes after I do, with a folder in hand. He smiles at me before he walks over and seats himself right next to me.

"Good morning," he says cheerfully. I groan. He's a morning person.

"Good would've been at ten," I whine playfully.

Mason laughs loudly at that and I join him. We are laughing and joking back and forth so much that I don't even notice Damon come in until he drops himself noisily into the chair right across from me. I chance a glance at him and he's glaring at us venomously, but I ignore it. I don't care if he's mad, because so am I.

"Alright," Ric says, grabbing our attention. "Now that everyone is here, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gives Damon a pointed look before he looks over at Mason expectantly.

"Well, I spoke to Elena about this when we met up last week," he starts, and at the mention of us meeting up, I see Damon's fists clench on the tabletop. "So it's not a shock to her, but I'm a week away from starting rehearsals for my world tour and I have yet to sign an opening act. After hearing Elena's stellar album and hearing her live at the release party," he turns and gives me a smile and a joking wink and I stifle my laughter, "I have no doubts that she'd make the perfect tour partner."

I decide right then that I really like Mason. He knows this has to be hard for me and he's doing his best to keep my mind on the tour, to smile and not think about Damon just sitting across the table glaring at me. I'll have to remember to thank him later.

I turn my attention to Alaric whose face has absolutely lit up. He's almost giddy with excitement.

"What are the time commitments? How long is the tour?" he asks, trying to contain his smile.

"As I already explained to Elena, it's a six month commitment, and that includes a month of rehearsals. Here is the schedule of the tour dates and all the cities and countries we'll be in," Mason explains as he pulls several papers from his folder and passes them to everyone at the table. I take mine and study it. I have an idea of what I'm getting myself into, but seeing it all on paper makes it all so real and that much more exciting.

Alaric and Bonnie study the papers carefully, making notes here and there while Damon takes one glance at it and tosses it haphazardly onto the table. Real mature.

"I think it's a great idea," Ric finally says, looking up from the papers.

Damon barks out a humorless laugh. "You can't be serious."

"What are you talking about, Damon?" Ric asks, shooting Damon a don't-you-mess-up-this-deal-for-me look to which Damon only rolls his eyes.

"How will she promote her own album?" Damon asks, sitting up in his chair. "That should be our number one priority, not agreeing to go on tour just because she's been asked. There will be other tours. She's not ready." Ouch. Hearing him say that he doesn't think I'm ready hurts more than I care to admit.

"There will be plenty of time on tour for her to fly somewhere to make an appearance or give interviews in whatever city we're in," Mason pipes up from beside me. I'm about to scream because they're discussing my future like I'm not even here. "But more importantly, let's ask Elena what she wants to do." Bless that man's soul. I give him a grateful smile.

"I want to do this tour," I tell them calmly, although I'm feeling anything but. "I'm willing to put in the time and effort to make it all work." There. Let it be said that I was the bigger person.

"You can't let her go, Ric," Damon continues as if I said nothing at all. "She knows nothing of touring and how to manage her time on the road."

Now Ric looks like he's about to kill Damon with his bare hands. I can't blame him. Because I'd help.

"I can help her with that," Bonnie volunteers, relieving some of the tension in the room. "I can arrange all her interviews and press junkets around her tour dates."

"Is her band even available?" Damon asks. God, he cannot just let this go.

"I'm right here," I snap. "And yes, they are. I called them over the weekend."

"Oh, good. And I'll meet with them about compensation," Ric says, and gives me an approving smile. "I think this is really something worth investing in. I think it's going to be good for you."

Oh. My. God.

I'm going on tour.

I am on cloud nine as I almost float out of the conference room. Having Ric's support in this means it is really happening. I pinch myself to be sure I'm not dreaming. Never in my life did I imagine I'd be signing to a record label, dropping an album or being asked on a world tour in just a few months. I'm more than ready for any and all work that comes my way.

My happy bubble burst suddenly when Damon's voice comes booming down the hallway.

"What the hell was that, Elena?"

I don't turn around, I only walk faster. Facing him in the conference room was bearable, being alone in an empty hallway with him? Not so much.

"What the hell was what?" I ask, still keeping my back to him, though I can hear his footsteps approaching. I can almost feel him getting closer. His hand wraps around my wrist and spins me around to face him.

His blue eyes are full of fire and I don't back down. I meet his stare head on.

"You and Mason." He nearly spits Mason's name. I yank my arm from his grasp with all the strength I can muster.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I laugh humorlessly. "And why do you even care?" I throw his words from that night right back in his face. That stops him dead in his tracks and gives me just enough time to make my escape. I take a slow step backward, a step away from him.

"Elena." He says my name like a plea and it's nearly my undoing. He sounds so desperate, so lost, but I can't give in. I won't give in. My heart wouldn't be able to handle it.

I give him one last glance before I shake my head dejectedly. "Save it, Damon. We're done here."

And this time, _I_ walk away.


	17. Breathe Again

**HOLY FREAKING CRAP YOU GUYS. 700 reviews. WHAT. What is happening? This was just supposed to be a fun little story that only like 15 people read. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. Wow. Just wow.**

**Sorry this took a little longer to get posted. I got distracted by a little book called Bared to You. READ IT. Ugh. So good. SO SO good.**

**Big thank you to Jenn (elvishgrrl) for being my beta. She's amazing. **

* * *

"You regretting your decision yet?" Mason says from above me.

It's our last day of rehearsals and I'm sprawled out on the floor in the middle of our rehearsal warehouse. It's been a tiring few weeks of nonstop production, practice, staging, and directing. I'm exhausted, but it's the kind of exhausted that comes from a job well done. A job I'm proud of.

"Never," I say with a smile. "Just taking a minute to soak it all in."

"I like the way you think, Gilbert," he says with his usual smile, dropping down on the floor next to me.

We stare up at the ceiling in silence, enjoying the rare moment of calm, both knowing it'll come to an end shortly.

"You heard from him?" he asks quietly, and I know exactly which _him_ Mason's referring to.

"Nope," I sigh. Damon obviously got the message when I walked away from him in the hallway at the studio. And no matter how weak it makes me, I wish he would have at least tried to contact me.

"It's not easy," he says softly.

"It's not easy to make it look easy," I reply.

"I sure hope you're planning on turning that into a song," he says with a small laugh, and I join in.

"You bet I am," I agree.

"Well, what do you say we celebrate our last day of rehearsals by going out to a very public lunch?" he asks, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. I can't help but smile back at him.

"That sounds wonderful," I reply, and when he stands, I let him pull me to my feet.

I know exactly what he's doing. He's been doing this since we started rehearsing and promoting our tour together. Slowly, he's learned more about my relationship with Damon and he's become more determined to make Damon even more jealous. So I'm aware that Mason and I have been seen out and about together, and that people are making assumptions about the nature of our relationship, but I'm okay with it, because both Mason and I know the truth.

Over the past month, Mason and I have become fast friends. He's easy to be around and even easier to confide in. He has such open and friendly personality. He's exactly the opposite of Damon and exactly what I need right now. However, the truth is, I think I'm starting to have a crush on Mason. A crush. Like I'm twelve again. He's been so nice and so sweet. And maybe it's just because I feel like running toward the first person who is completely different to Damon. Maybe it's because I need a rebound. Maybe it's just because I want to feel like I'm still attractive to the opposite sex. I don't know, but I haven't cared to analyze it either.

On our way out, I call Caroline and Bonnie to see if they want to have one last lunch with me before I leave. Of course, they say yes. Mason and I meet them at a restaurant in town. We laugh and joke and I wonder why the four of us didn't become friends sooner. I don't want it to end.

But eventually, it does. I hug both Bonnie and Caroline goodbye and promise that I'll keep them up to date on all aspects of the tour. I'm going to miss them and I wish so badly that I could pack them up and take them on tour with me. I watch them leave and then climb into Mason's truck with an unusually quiet Mason behind the wheel. He's been like this through most of lunch. Not angry, not sad, just introspective. It's strange because I've never seen him like this.

We ride in silence to the rehearsal facility and by the time Mason parks the car, I've had enough. I want fun Mason back, damn it.

"You okay?" I ask softly. I hope he's not regretting asking me to tour with him.

Instead, he turns in his seat and gives me a shy smile. "Yeah. How about a walk before we go back to rehearsals?"

I check my watch - we've got some time to kill. So I smile back and jump out of the truck. We stroll down to the abandoned park behind the facility. The air is warm, but today, it's dry and wonderful. The sun feels good on my skin and the occasional shade from the trees keeps me cool.

Mason is still quiet and I'm about to ask him if he wants to talk, when he does just that.

"We've been getting really close these past few weeks and it's been awesome. I never imagined that we'd get along this great," he says quickly, almost like he'd lose his courage if he doesn't get it out fast enough. But I hear the unspoken words at the end of his sentence.

"But?" I prompt him. God, why does it sound like he's breaking up with me? And why am I so upset about that?

He takes a deep breath before turning to face me and I prepare myself for the worst. "But I want more."

I freeze. He can't possibly mean what I think he means.

"I- I don't understand," I stutter. He's totally blindsided me. I did not see this coming.

He takes a step closer to me and I see the most sincere gaze in his hazel eyes. I have no idea how to process all this.

"I want to be with you, Elena," he says softly as his fingers graze over the skin of my cheek before tucking a stray hair behind my ear. I close my eyes and I find myself leaning into the touch of his calloused fingertips.

"Mason," I hear myself say. And I don't know what I mean. Is it a plea? A warning? A question? A rejection? I have no fucking clue. My brain has gone into shock.

"Just hear me out, okay?" he says seriously, placing his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him.

"Okay," I answer carefully. I feel a lot of terrified and, admittedly, a little excited.

"I know it's going to take time for you to get over Damon and to be able to trust in a relationship again." His voice is so soft and his hands run down my arms and wrap around my own. "But I can be patient. So let's take this tour and continue to be friends like we are right now and at the end of it, you can decide if you are ready to move forward with me."

I'm 97-percent sure that my jaw is somewhere near the ground right now. I force it closed, but it just pops open again. I try a second time to no avail. I can't form words. Or a coherent thought right now.

"Mason, I-" I finally get out, but he interrupts me again.

"You don't have to agree to anything. For the next five months, we'll continue just as we are, no pressure, just friends," he assures me. "And at the end all you have to say is yes or no and that's that."

"Okay," I say because what other option is there? His plan is flawless. At least for me.

"But first, I just have to do one thing." The words are out of his mouth and the next second he's moving, closer, closer, closer. Oh God.

"Wha-" is the only thing I manage to squeak out before Mason's hands dive into my hair and his lips collide with mine.

My eyes go wide at first, but his lips are so soft and sweet against mine that my eyelids droop closed and I surrender to his kiss.

And just like that, it's over and he's smiling at me like the cat that ate the canary.

"There," he says proudly. "_Now_ we can go back to rehearsals."

* * *

To say it's been a long day would be the understatement of my life. I can't get Mason's idea out of my head. Or the feel of his lips on mine. It feels wrong somehow, like I'm betraying Damon. But then I remind myself that Damon doesn't matter anymore. His thoughts, his feelings, his opinions - none of it matters. Just how he wanted it.

I glance around the empty stage. Everyone has long gone home, but I just can't walk away yet. Tomorrow this will all be real and in two days, I'll be performing in my very first arena concert. The magnitude of this tour is suddenly very real, almost tangible. There are no lights left on except the safety lights and I can almost feel the crowd in the warehouse with me. I sit down at the piano and start to play. At first it's just a few notes, echoing in the large space, but they soon become a melody. A song that I wrote recently that shows I'm not as strong as I seem on the outside, that on the inside I'm just a girl who had her heart broken.

_"Car is parked, bags are packed, but what kind of heart doesn't look back_

_At the comfortable glow from the porch, the one I will still call yours?_

_All those words came undone and now I'm not the only one_

_Facing the ghosts that decide if the fire inside still burns._

_All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe_

_Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something_

_Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again_

_I'll breathe again_

_Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth_

_And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view_

_Hang my head, break my heart built from all I have torn apart_

_And my burden to bear is a love I can't carry anymore_

_All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe_

_Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something_

_Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again_

_It hurts to be here_

_I only wanted love from you_

_It hurts to be here_

_What am I gonna do?_

_All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe_

_Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching_

_All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe_

_Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something_

_Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again_

_I'll breathe again."_

The words are painful to say out loud, but the release is almost cathartic. The music echoes in the empty space. The silence that descends after is broken by the sound of soft clapping. My heart jumps at the sound and I turn on the piano stool to see Damon leaning casually against a stack of boxes. His blue eyes are glued to me but give me no clue as to what he is feeling.

The silence between us stretches on. I want run to him and wrap my arms around his waist, to snuggle into his chest and to breathe in his scent. But I don't. I don't say anything either. He obviously has something to say or else he wouldn't be here.

"New song?" he asks finally, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking unusually out of place. Damon never looks out of place.

I say nothing. I'm afraid if I open my mouth, the words that are hanging there will come spilling out. Things like _I hate you_, or _you broke my heart_, or even worse, _I love you_. So I play it safe and say nothing at all. I just watch him shift his weight uncomfortably.

"Has Mason adequately prepared you for what life on the road is like?" He's trying to fill the silence and I almost want to say nothing, to make him squirm and suffer, but that last question has lit a fuse.

"You really came here to ask me about Mason?" I ask, making my irritation evident.

"No," he answers immediately, then pauses before amending his response. "Maybe." He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, giving up. "I don't know."

And that's all the answer I need. I get up from the stool and grab my bag from the ground.

"Well, you have the next six months to figure it out," I say as I sling my bag over my shoulder and start to walk away.

"Wait!" His voice is frantic and it freezes me in place, but I don't dare turn around. Not looking at him right now is the only way to protect myself.

I wait for him to continue, but instead I feel him move in close behind me. Too close. Too much. I'm not strong enough for this.

When he speaks again, his voice is low and soft and devastating. "Don't go with him."

Please, somebody tell me that he did _not_ just say that. My heart feels like it's breaking all over again because this is just too good to be true.

"Damon." His name leaves my lips in a strangled whisper. This is all just too painful because at any moment, this is all going to come crashing down.

His fingers encircle my wrist and he turns me to face him. I don't fight it. I'm like a cow to the slaughter. I know it's coming and I know it's going to hurt.

"Don't go with him," he repeats and I see the desperation in his eyes. I feel it in the way he's death-gripping my wrist. Like he's trying to physically stop me from leaving.

"Give me one reason to stay," I whisper, and my voice breaks because I know he can't give it to me. I only need to hear one thing and it's the one thing he is incapable of feeling. Incapable of saying.

"Because I don't want you to go," he pleads, and the sound is like a knife to my heart.

"It's not enough, Damon," I say quietly, as I gently remove his hand from around my wrist. I look up into his eyes and see something completely different than I saw a few moments ago. Anger flares bright and hot in his eyes and it's so intense that I almost feel like it's burned me.

"What do I need to say?" he asks, his voice raising as he loses his temper. "You want me to tell you I love you?" he nearly shouts.

I recoil as if he slapped me. It would've hurt less if he'd just hit me. My eyes go wide and I can feel the tears coming. I'm pissed and hurt and upset that I let him have this effect on me still. A single tear escapes and I swipe at it quickly.

"Yeah, fuck you, Damon," I hiss before I turn and nearly run away. I need out of here. I need away from him. I didn't think it would be possible to be more miserable. The tears fall freely when I hear him shouting my name behind me. I almost laugh at the irony. It's just how he left me, only I'm still the one who ends up heartbroken.

I cannot leave for this tour soon enough.

* * *

**Next chapter we'll have a time jump**

**For those who still don't trust Mason, all I will say is that he's definitely not perfect, but he's not evil either. That is all. *evil laughter***

**The song is called Breath Again by Sara Bareilles.**

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**Reviews are love. SO MUCH LOVE. (The Rocket Summer anyone, anyone?)**


	18. Easy

**THANK YOU! All your reviews were so sweet and so amazing to read. I love how invested in this story you all are. It's so amazing.**

**Big thanks to Jenn for being my beta. And thanks to Emma for being just awesome.  
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**Enjoy!  
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* * *

I can't believe it. After five long and adventurous months, my bus is speeding down Highway 65 toward Nashville. Toward my very last show of this tour. Toward home.

Toward Damon.

The thought comes unbidden to mind. Not that Damon hasn't entered my mind over the past five months. And I obviously haven't been far from his - he's been to at least three of my shows in the states. Which I didn't know until the next morning when Caroline sent me a link to an article about him being spotted there. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Thanks to Caroline, I also know that Damon's been seen a couple of times with Katherine. It hurts more than I could ever explain, even though I have no reason to be jealous. Besides, none of the articles reported them dating or even speculated that they were dating. That small fact is a giant relief.

Things between Damon and I are complicated enough, but having Mason thrown into the midst just makes my head spin. Though dealing with Mason has been virtually painless, at least on his end. He's been sweet and friendly and has not tried anything with me once in the five months we've been traveling together. He's not the problem.

The problem is me.

What I felt – and, if I'm being honest, what I still feel - for Damon is on a whole other level. It's like he's in my blood, in my lungs, under my skin. And no matter what I try, I can't get him out. When I'm with him, I don't know which way is up and which is down. I never know if I'll come away from an interaction with him with my heart intact. It's both terrifying and incredibly thrilling.

Mason is different. He's sweet and caring and what I feel for him is comfortable. It's safe. It's just what I need. I can trust him. He makes me laugh and he held me the one night on tour when I broke down. His arms were strong and warm and everything I needed in that moment. He's been my rock. I know that what I feel for Mason is nowhere near the intensity of my feelings for Damon, but that's what I like about it. It's easy, it's effortless and it doesn't hurt.

We pull up to Bridgestone Arena in all its glory. There are just walls on top of walls of glass on the front, but I'm quickly distracted by the hordes of screaming fans that have been waiting for us to arrive. A smile tugs at my lips, just like it does every time I see this now-familiar sight. I love every second of it.

I walk down the small steps that lead off the bus and I'm shocked to see Caroline and Bonnie both standing on the sidewalk. I just about throw myself into their arms. God, I've missed them, even though I've talked to them both at least twice a week while I've been gone. It's so good to actually see them, to feel their arms around me.

They stay close by my side as I take my time signing autographs and posing for pictures. I love doing this, so I try to spend as much time out here as possible, but I also desperately want time to catch up with Caroline and Bonnie.

Finally, we arrive in my dressing room and we spend the next two hours chatting. They listen to all my stories about crazy things I encountered while abroad, I tell them all about my deal with Mason and at that they nearly lose their shit.

"Oh my god!"

"He's so sweet!"

"What are you going to say?"

"Have you decided?"

"He's so hot!"

"I can't believe he hasn't tried anything."

"What a gentleman."

"What about Damon?"

Their questions come in rapid fire and I just smile at their antics until the very last, quietly uttered question.

_What about Damon?_

I let out a heavy sigh, trying to find any words to describe my torn emotions.

"I have no fucking clue." There. That about covers it.

"If it makes you feel better, he's been miserable while you were away," Caroline says gently. I know she's always had a soft spot for Damon and it's sure on display right now.

"Ugh," I groan, covering my ears dramatically. "Don't tell me that. Tell me he's been trying to set a record for the most women slept with in a five-month period. Tell me he's been a jerk. Tell me that you've never seen him happier. Tell me anything but that." The last thing I need to hear is that he's not the heartless monster that I've been telling myself he is.

They both look at me with sympathetic eyes and that's when I can't take any more. I love them, I do, but I don't want to talk about Damon. I don't want to think about Damon. I want nothing to do with Damon.

_I want everything to do with Damon._

Then I tell myself to shut the fuck up.

The three of us hug some more when I tell them I'm going to start my pre-show ritual, and they get the hint. They head up to their box seats and I'm left to enjoy a few minutes of glorious silence.

I glance around my dressing room, decked out with the typical couch, bathroom, lighted mirror and a whole buffet table full of food enough for at least twelve. I sneak a peek at myself again in the mirror. I went all out tonight. I mean, it is my last night. My hair is full and curled into spirals that bounce and are perfect for rocking out this show. My make-up reflects a page out of Caroline's repertoire with smoky shadow and dark lashes paired with feisty red lipstick. And I've picked the most flirty lace dress I could find. Caroline would be proud.

Tonight is all about soaking up the experience. I'm no longer worried about impressing the fans - tonight is about connecting. Tonight is a celebration. I can't wait to get on that stage, to feel the lights, to hear the rustle of the crowd, to hear them singing my songs, to leave it all on that stage.

I'm humming to myself and I don't realize somebody has joined me until I hear the door shut. I jump a mile high in my rhinestone boots. I turn around so fast that I lose my balance and I'm forced to reach for the edge of the counter, but I miss and end up knocking over some of the items that are littered across the surface. However, when I glance up and see Damon's blue eyes staring back at me, I instantly forget about the mess I've just made.

"What are you doing here?" I ask and my voice is much louder than I intend it to be, totally betraying my nerves.

"Taking inventory of your hair products," he says with a smirk, inching closer to me and making a point to look around me to eye the cluttered counter.

"Damon," I warn, yet my voice doesn't sound very threatening. I was not prepared to see him up close and personal so soon. And without anyone else around. Inside my tiny dressing room, which only seemed to grow smaller the moment he walked in.

"What are you doing with Mason?"

His question is abrupt and catches me off guard. Hell, his presence alone caught me off guard.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?"

He is slowly but surely closing the distance between us, trapping me against this stupid counter.

"Because I'm crazy with jealousy, Elena." His gaze is so intense that I have to look away to regain some semblance of my composure.

"My relationship with Mason has nothing to do with you," I snap at him, proud that I get some fire behind it. But it seems to have only spurred him on. An almost sadistic smile pulls at his lips as he stalks toward me with pure male hunger in his eyes.

Oh, Lord have mercy. Is it hot in here?

"Does Mason know I had you first?" His voice is husky and low and dripping sex. My knees threaten to buckle. He takes another step closer. "That nobody will ever be able to say that but me? Does he know that I fit inside you perfectly? That when I hit you in just that right spot, your breath catches and your nails dig deeper into my skin?"

I'm aware that I'm staring at him like a deer in headlights, but his words have paralyzed me. I'm forced to relive every moment he's just made reference to.

Then he delivers the kicker and leans in so close that his chest is pressed against mine and his breath is hot on my ear as he whispers, "And when I make you come, you squeeze me so tight that I have no choice but to follow you over the edge."

Is that me breathing so loud? It's hard to tell over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I'm very certain that the world has stopped turning. How - after five months away - does he still affect me like this? I force the haze from my mind and push away from him, putting some much needed space between us.

"You shouldn't be here," I tell him, my back still turned because I just can't look at him right now. I can't see the way his jeans fit him just so. The way his black button up clings to his chest and how his pushed-up sleeves display his forearms. Stop it, Gilbert!

"I don't know what you're expecting from me. It's over. It has been for six months." Now I turn and look him dead in the eye, because I mean this. He needs to know I mean this, but when I meet those baby blue eyes, my resolve weakens.

"You and I both know that's not true," he practically growls and I can't believe he'd actually say that.

"It was over the moment you walked out my door!" I nearly shout, my emotions about as frayed as they can possibly be right about now.

"This is far from over," he responds just as passionately, closing the distance between us once more. And no matter how much I want to back away from every step, I can't. I physically can't. He's like a freight train and I'm tied to the tracks with no choice but to watch his approach.

His hands land on either side of my face and then his lips are on mine. The sheer force of his sensual my lips welcome him whole-heartedly, betraying me completely. In fact, my whole body responds to him. Doing the exact opposite that I want it to. The rational part of my brain is severely in the minority here. He just tastes so good, so familiar, so Damon.

My fingers tighten on his hips and pull him closer to me as my lips move with his, opening to allow his tongue inside. The entire time I know this needs to stop, but I can't. I just can't.

_I don't want to._

Oh my God.

That thought stops me right in my tracks and gives me just what I need to push him away from me. "No!" I cry, giving him a solid shove with all of the strength I have left. He stumbles backward a step or two, just as affected as I am.

"You don't get to waltz back in here six months later and expect me to melt at your feet!" I poke a finger in his direction. My emotions are so out of whack that I don't know if I'm angry, hurt, turned on, or just plain crazy. "God, Damon. Wasn't it enough for you to break my heart once? Why do you have to keep doing this to me?"

His bravado falls away and for a rare moment, I see the real Damon.

"Elena." He says my name so reverently, and I can see that he realizes what he's done. What this all has amounted to. It's all clear in his eyes that he sees it now.

"You don't get to do this to me again," I say, my voice a little more even as I get myself under control.

"I want to be with you," he says softly, almost nervously. The tone alone nearly rips me apart. And no matter how much I want to run right back into his arms and never leave, I know I have to be strong. Something has to change before he and I will ever be able to work. If I cave now, it'll never happen.

I'm saved from responding when the stage manager pokes his head in the door. "Hey, Elena, you ready..." he trails off when he sees Damon, obviously aware that he's just interrupted something.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I say as cheerfully as I can manage and he nods once and closes the door softly behind him.

I give Damon one last look before I head to the door, needing to get back into the right mindset for this show. But before I reach the door, his hand wraps around my wrist, and he gently turns me to face him.

"No matter what you say or think, this isn't over. He's not capable of giving you what I can," Damon says, his face deadly serious.

The fight has totally gone out of me. I'm drained and I still have a show to play. So with one more glance back, I simply say, " He's capable of loving me."

* * *

My set could not have gone any better, even with my mind not 100% present thanks to Damon's little visit. The crowd was amazing and my band was on fire. I could just feel all the energy swirling around me as I let it soothe my frazzled nerves. Surprisingly, a packed arena of 30,000 people calms me more than anything.

Tonight, Mason and I decided to mix things up in honor of our last night of the tour. So I pace backstage until I hear him call me to the stage as his encore. We've been planning this for a few days, but the idea has been forming for a few weeks. I'm pretty excited and I can't wait to see how the crowd reacts to this surprise.

I grab my microphone and walk out on the stage, waving at the crowd once again. They go crazy as I join Mason center stage. The smile he gives me is one that has become very familiar to me over the past six months. I soak it up because it's exactly what I need right now to sooth me.

"I want to first thank Elena for agreeing to going on this tour with me. It's been an amazing five months and I can't think of a better person to travel with. She's been incredible. Over the past six months, we've become close friends and we've spent a lot of free time just talking about life. So tonight, y'all get to hear the product of one of those late night discussions," Mason says to the crowd, then nods to the band.

The crowd goes absolutely nuts when the music starts and they realize what is happening. The sound brings a smile to my face as I think back to the late night talk that inspired this song. The venting session had us putting out heads together and writing a song that so accurately summed up everything that had been said that night.

_"We broke up_

_Yeah, it's tough_

_Most guys would've been crushed_

_Wastin' their time_

_Wonderin' where they went wrong_

_No way, not me_

_Hey, I'm doing just fine_

_I'm not afraid of movin' on."_

Mason blows his verse out of the water and inspires me to do the same. He commands the stage when he performs - he feels the music, he doesn't just sing it. Together, we put on the best show we can. Our last show.

_"The truth is_

_That I miss lyin' in those arms of his_

_But I don't ever let it show_

_I laugh and I act like_

_I'm having the time of my life_

_As far as he knows."_

Everything from today, from the past eight months, is poured into my voice. I worry less about how I sound and more about how I feel, how it makes the audience feel. And when Mason's voice joins mine, the crowd is lit up with cell phone lights swaying back and forth. The sight is staggering.

_"It's easy goin' out on a Friday night_

_Easy, everytime I see him out_

_I can smile, live it up_

_The way a single girl does_

_But, what he, what he don't know_

_is how hard it is to make it look so_

_Easy_

_Oh, it's easy."_

I hardly hear the music end, because the roar of the audience is near deafening. I think it's safe to say that they liked it and I can't wipe the ridiculous grin off my face. We did it. We toured the world. It's hard to believe that this is the end. That two days from now we won't even be in the same state. That we won't be prepping to perform yet another sold out show. Instead, I get to go back to my apartment alone, rather than board a tour bus filled with people.

We all take our final bows and I nearly have to be dragged off stage. I don't want to leave. I want to stay there forever, with all those amazing people who showed up tonight. I join the celebration backstage and I'm immediately seized up into a pair of strong tan arms. I place my arms around his neck, and hug back, just like we've done after every show.

"Of all our amazing shows, tonight was definitely the best," he says as he sets me back onto my feet. His smile is so broad and it makes me feel all tingly inside. I'm not sure how, but he has this ability to make me feel so carefree.

"It was," I agree. "God, it feels good to be back."

He smiles down at me for a long moment before his face goes serious.

"It's the last night of the tour," he murmurs, running his fingers through my mass of brown curls. The gesture is so sweet, so tender, that I can't help but close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"I know," I finally reply, my voice is quiet and a little shaky. I open my eyes to stare into his beautiful hazel ones. God, they are so warm, so inviting.

"So is it a yes or a no?" he asks nervously.

His proposal has never completely left my mind over the past five months and until about three hours ago, I was planning to agree to try a relationship with him.

But that was before Damon showed up in my dressing room and turned the tables on me once again. He has such a knack for catching me completely off guard. For never saying what I expect him to. For throwing me completely off balance.

Mason is waiting for an answer and I'm still contemplating it, when I see Damon come down the hall backstage. His words from earlier swirl in my mind. _Are you trying to make me jealous? Because I'm crazy with jealousy, Elena._

Maybe it makes me a bitch. Maybe it makes me a horrible person, but right then my mind is made up and I quickly give Mason my answer.

"Yes."

* * *

**You are all phenomenal. **

**Next chapter we'll see a different side to Damon. I just let that simmer in your minds...  
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**The song is Easy by Rascal Flatts ft. Natasha Bedingfield.  
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	19. Stay

**Guys. I nearly fainted when I saw that this story hit over 800 reviews. WHAT. And I got 60 reviews last chapter. 60! Unheard of. Thank you all so so so so much. It means the world to me.**

**Thanks to Jenn (elvishgrrl) who was lovely and beta'd this for me, as always.**

**And to Emma who gladly told me what was weird and what wasn't. You're the best.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Popcorn? Check.

Wine? Check.

Pizza? Check.

Best friends? Check.

Boyfriend? Check.

I'm finally ready for this.

When Mason first tried to convince me to watch the Grammy nominations, I originally said no. Hell no.

But he gave me the puppy eyes and generally tried to convince me when he was shirtless, or nibbling on my neck or both. How's a girl to resist?

So here we are, Caroline, Bonnie, Mason and I are all in our comfy clothes, surrounded by food, and glued to the TV. It's not like I'm expecting to be nominated, but Caroline, Bonnie, and Mason all disagree.

The televised press conference is coming quickly to a close and I can't help but be a little disappointed. Again, I didn't expect to be nominated, but a little flare of hope has started to burn as the conference continues on.

"And now, the category for Best Female Country Vocalist," says the presenter. It's one of the final categories and one of my last hopes that I'll be nominated. "And the nominees are...!"

The co-presenter reads off the names. I know every single artist. They are all phenomenal representations of country music and not to mention each of them have killer pipes.

"And the final nominee: Elena Gilbert!"

I scream. There is no way. I heard wrong. I'm dreaming.

But when everyone else starts screaming and I'm swept into Mason's arms, I know it's not a dream. I return his embrace fiercely and I feel Bonnie and Caroline's arms wrap around us too. I feel tears streaming down my face, but I don't care.

I'd be lying if I said I've never dreamt of winning a Grammy, but not this soon after my first album. This can't be real.

"Our final category is for Best New Artist," the final presenter announces. "And the nominee's are..."

She reads off the names of a few artists that I recognize. There's some British boy band, a male pop star, a rapper, a powerhouse R&B artist and... _me_.

What. The. Fuck.

I'm in utter shock.

Not one nomination, but two. Two!

My heart is pounding out of sheer joy. I turn and take Mason's face in my hands and kiss him soundly. His arms instantly wrap around me and he lifts off the couch and spins me in the air. I can't help the excited laugh that leaves my lips. This is just too crazy.

Big fat tears of joy are streaming down my face and I'm laughing and sobbing all at the same time. It's quite embarrassing. However, since Bonnie and Caroline are faring about the same as I am, I feel much better.

An hour later, I find myself more than a little buzzed and snuggled up to Mason who is sprawled out on my couch. My apartment is a mess, but I can't summon the energy to clean it. Plus, Mason is currently nuzzling my neck so I'm definitely not going anywhere.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers against my skin. His words and his breath warm me from the inside out.

I give him a shy smile and he captures my lips with his before I can even thank him. The kiss quickly escalates from sweet and tender to heated and passionate. He lays me on my back on the cushions and his body follows, covering mine. He settles into the cradle of my hips as his lips and hands start to explore. His hands are calloused and rough, but his touch is so gentle and I'm lost to his kisses.

I'm not sure when he loses his shirt, but next thing I know, he's tugging at the hem of mine and a wave of embarrassment washes through me. I'm wearing a crappy sports bra. I'd always imagined I'd be wearing something sexy when we finally hit this level.

His mouth leaves a hot, wet trail down my neck and chest. Then his mouth is on one breast, suckling it through the thing fabric of my bra. I want to enjoy the feel of it, but all I can think about now is that none of this is right. None of this is how I pictured it. This isn't how I wanted this to happen. Not on my couch, not wearing crummy sweats, not buzzed off cheap wine.

"Hey, hey," I whisper, cupping his face in my hands and trying to pull his mouth away from my chest. "Let's slow this down."

"Why?" he mumbles against my skin and resists my attempts to stop him. Instead his fingers toy with the top of my sweat pants.

I feel a shot of anger run through me as I push him off and move to the opposite end of the couch. "Because I want to and that should be a good enough reason!"

He looks dazed for a moment before he sits back and wipes a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry, 'Lena." The nickname grates on my nerves a little, but he really does look sorry, so I let that one go. "I don't know what came over me. I got lost in the moment, I guess."

I'm still processing how I feel about the moment we just had, but the look in his eyes tells me that he really did get carried away. That he really does feel bad.

"I just want it to be special," I tell him quietly.

"Me, too." He gives me a long meaningful look, but it soon changes. He almost looks nervous. "Can I just hold you tonight?"

He sounds so shy, so worried, it goes straight to my heart. Without a second thought, I crawl across the cushions and climb onto his lap, curling myself into his chest. His arms wrap tightly around me and our whole ordeal is forgotten.

* * *

The next morning I roll into the studio rocking a wicked hangover and I'm so fucking late.

But the universe has a sick sense of humor and it turns out the meeting is an hour later than I thought it was.

Awesome. Not.

Now I've got some time to kill. So I decide to explore. I take my time wandering the halls of the studio. There are so many places here I haven't been yet. All the time I've been working here, I've stuck to the same wing.

I'm on the second level, one that I've never set foot on. I stroll aimlessly, poking my head into any room with the door open. Many of them are rehearsal rooms, small and sound proof, with a piano or guitar inside. My fingers trail across the walls as I take in the place where this all started. As I reach the end of the hall, my hand accidentally pushes open a door that I originally thought was closed. Curiosity overwhelms me and I inch the door open. I find myself in the doorway of a large office with a large wood desk and a full wall of bookshelves on one end and a leather couch, an upright piano, and a wall of mounted guitars on the other. The desk and bookshelves are meticulously organized, but the entire office is incredibly impersonal. There is no evidence that it belongs to any one person.

I venture in further and notice that there is sheet music spread across the piano, the only clue I have that this office has been used recently. I approach the upright hesitantly and my eyes skim over the handwritten notes and lyrics on the pages. The first thing I recognize is the handwriting. That neat scrawl is so familiar, but I don't look much into it.

Then I notice that it's written in my key. My favorite key - A minor.

When I see the name of the song, my heart freezes and my breath catches. It's called "Stay".

By now, I'm hooked. I have to hear this song. This song was written for me.

I sit at the piano and I start to play.

_"Well it's good to hear your voice_

_I hope your doing fine_

_And if you ever wonder,_

_I'm lonely here tonight_

_Lost here in this moment and time keeps slipping by_

_And if I could have just one wish_

_I'd have you by my side_

_Well I try to live without you_

_The tears fall from my eyes_

_I'm alone and I feel empty_

_God I'm torn apart inside_

_I look up at the stars_

_Hoping you're doing the same_

_Somehow I feel closer and I can hear you say_

_'Oooh, oh I miss you_

_Oooh, oh I need you_

_And I love you more than I did before_

_And if today I don't see your face_

_Nothing's changed, no one can take your place_

_It gets harder everyday'_

_Say you love me more than you did before_

_And I'm sorry that it's this way_

_But I'm coming home, I'll be coming home_

_And if you ask me I will stay, I will stay_

_Always stay_

_I never wanna lose you_

_And if I had to I would choose you_

_So stay, please always stay_

_You're the one that I hold onto_

_'Cause my heart would stop without you"_

It takes everything in me to finish the song.

After everything that has happened with Mason, this is more than I can handle. My heart feels like it's being ripped into two separate halves - what it wants and what it needs. I need Mason. I need his strength, his encouragement, his warmth. But I want Damon. I want the unpredictable, the unknown, the uncharted territory. I want him to love me.

_Wanted_. I _wanted_ him to love me.

It's not fair to Mason to think like that.

If I'm going to be with him, I need to _be_ with him. All of me. My heart included. I can't let the baggage from my relationship with Damon affect what I have going for me now.

It's with that resolve that I push Damon's beautiful song out of my head and slip quietly out of his office. It's not going to be easy, it's not going to be fun, but I refuse to hurt Mason. He's done nothing to deserve any pain.

Just as those thoughts rush through my mind, I round the corner to the elevator and run head first into the last person I should be in an empty hallway with.

"Sorry," I mumble. Keeping my head down, I maneuver around him. But just as I slip past Damon, his hand shoots out and wraps around my upper arm, keeping me firmly in place.

"Elena, wait." His voice is soft and pleading. The sound forces me to close my eyes in order to keep my composure. Once I have myself under control, I turn and face him, trying my best to keep my face neutral.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for barging into your dressing room and saying the things I did." He looks like he's in pain and it makes my heart clench a little.

No! I need to stay strong!

"It was out of line," he continues, running a hand through his hair. "And I just... I'm just sorry."

He looks so heartbreakingly contrite and almost humbled. It's a side of Damon I've never seen. A side I didn't know even existed. And maybe it doesn't exist, maybe it only exists for me.

Oh, God. I can't think that way. I just can't.

I look up into those blue eyes and have to use all of my energy to remain impassive.

"Thank you," I say softly and as sincerely as I can without letting my guard down.

And before he can say any more, I slip around him and turn the last corner to the elevator.

But it doesn't stop me from being haunted by the look on his face.

* * *

"You look..." I hear Mason's voice behind me as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My dress is amazing. It's a deep plum mermaid gown with a beaded neckline. And Caroline styled my hair into a simple bun that accentuates my neck and the earrings adorning my lobes. The dress fits like a glove and my silver heels pull everything together. I feel like royalty and the way Mason's looking at me only solidifies that.

"I look what?" I ask coyly, turning around to admire how well his tailored suit fits him. It's quite a sight to behold.

"That's just it, there are no words." And just like that, I'm swooning. I don't know how he always says the perfect thing.

"You ready to go?" he asks, holding out his arm to me. I gladly wrap my hand around it and let him lead me to the limo waiting for us.

"You really went all out," I comment excitedly.

"It's your special night," he replies with a mischievous smile. What does he have up his sleeve now?

Mason insisted on making this day as perfect as possible. He booked me a day at the spa, flew Caroline in to do my hair and make up, he even paid for our hotel arrangements and now, he's arranged a limo to whisk us around LA for the night.

Under the definition of thoughtful in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of his face.

The driver opens the door and I nearly faint because sitting inside are my parents and my brother. It takes everything in me not to cry seeing them sitting there. Last time I saw them was on a stop in the first month of the tour.

I fly into their arms as fast as I can without ripping my dress.

"What are you guys doing here?" I ask as Mason slides onto the seat beside me.

"We got a call from Alaric telling us that the studio wanted to do something to congratulate you on your nominations, so they got us tickets to the show, plane tickets, and hotel reservations," my mom answers with a smile plastered on her face. I'm sure it matches mine.

"And Ric called and let me know," Mason says, "and I offered to pick them up to surprise you."

Wow. Never did I imagine that I'd sign with my dream label and that they'd treat me this well.

The ride over, Mason and I tell them stories from our tour and I update them on how my album sales are doing. I sold over 100,000 copies in the first month of release. And to me, that's out of this world.

When we arrive at the Staples Center, the driver lets my family off at the side entrance so they can find their seats and then drops Mason and me off for the red carpet.

I'm expecting pretty much the same routine as any other red carpet I've been on, but tonight is way different than my usual experience. In the midst of all these amazingly talented and famous musicians, there are hordes of people screaming my name. People who want interviews with _me_. I'm being herded from place to place so fast that my head is nearly spinning when I finally enter the arena.

Mason and I are ushered straight to our seats, so I have no time to ogle the celebrities. You'd think I would be used to it by now, but I'm not. Not even close.

Turns out when Saltzman Records gave my family tickets, they went all out because they are seated with my small entourage of supporters which includes Ric, Jenna, and Damon as well as my family and Mason. I squeal and hug Jenna, so happy that she made it and by the look on Ric's face, I understand how she got here.

My eyes finally land on Damon and I'm not sure what I expect him to do, but he surprises me by giving me a small half smile and a simple nod of acknowledgment. It takes me back to the time when we would do most of our communicating through looks. There isn't much time to linger on that, because the show is starting.

About halfway through, I notice that Damon gets up and leaves. I wonder where he is going, when the show starts up again after the commercial break for the television broadcast. I don't have to wonder long, because he's announced as the presenter of the next category.

He waltzes out on the stage like he owns it and for someone who has not made music in over two years, he commands the attention and respect from everyone in the arena.

"Our next category honors those powerhouse country women. All of our nominees are incredibly talented and have voices that have captured the hearts of millions," he says into the microphone. "And the nominees are..."

I watch the screen with rapt attention. So many of my idols are featured on the video showcasing their amazing vocals. And last, there is me. There are video clips of my performances from the tour and seeing my name up on that screen is totally surreal.

The lights come up again and Damon is standing on stage holding an envelope, accompanied by a pretty female stage usher who has a Grammy trophy in hand.

Oh, God. I'm not expecting to win, but there is that tiny voice in my head that is whispering, _what if?_

"And the winner is..." My heart is in my throat as Damon rips open the envelope and reads the name on the card. I try as hard as I can to read his expression, but either he's hiding it really well or I'm way too nervous to look far into it.

"Elena Gilbert!"

For one long moment, the world stops turning. Time stands still.

And now I'm pretty sure I'm going to puke.

The crowd erupts into cheers as my little group of supporters rises to their feet to congratulate me. I'm in a daze as I rise and get passed around from person to person. I can't differentiate between the arms that are embracing me, but soon I'm pushed toward the stage where Damon stands. I field handshakes and hugs as I walk down the isle and pray I don't trip as I ascend the stairs.

Damon greets me with a huge smile before he pulls me in close. His scent fills my nose and I can't help but breathe it in.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers in my ear before letting me go and stepping back, gesturing to the woman who is holding out the trophy toward me. I take it with shaking hands and then I face the audience. Shit. There are way more people here than I thought.

Then I realize that I'm expected to address them. Right _now_.

"I'm not exactly prepared because I honestly didn't expect to win this," I start, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "Actually, I didn't expect to be nominated. I just want to say thank you to my family and to Alaric Saltzman for believing in me. Thank you to my producer, Damon Salvatore. Thank you to Mason Lockwood who let me tour with him for five months and thanks to all the fans for making all of this so special. Thank you!"

The room goes ballistic as Damon and I are ushered back stage where I pose for picture after picture with my shiny new Grammy award.

Holy shit!

Not long after, I have to give the trophy back with the promise that there is one with my name on it in the mail. Damon and I are escorted back to our seats to enjoy the rest of the show.

Where I win another fucking Grammy.

I even beat out a British boy band, the young pop stars that have under-aged girls nearly throwing their panties at them. This time I'm a little more aware of who I hug on my way to the stage, yet I'm still unprepared to speak. So I settle with just thanking my family and the fans and by the applause I get, it's enough.

The rest of the night is full of interviews and photo sessions. It's all so surreal. And when we are finally back at the hotel after dropping my family off with the promise of breakfast tomorrow, I'm so ready to get out of this dress.

Mason and I chat excitedly about the evening on our way to the room. It was a magical night - one that I will never forget. Mason and I are both so giddily excited that I doubt either of us will be able to sleep tonight.

When we arrive at the door and I slide the card key through the sensor, Mason is oddly silent. However, once I push open the suite door, I realize why.

The whole suit is dark except for the soft glow of the dozens of candles that are lit around the entryway and living room. As I walk further into the room, I notice there is a path of rose petals leading into the bedroom, where they are littered on the bed.

So cliché, but it's so sweet that I really don't care.

I whisper his name as I turn and see him watching me take it all in.

"You said you wanted it to be special," he says, by way of explanation.

"This is pretty special," I reply and I know there is a stupid grin on my face as he walks toward me, sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the bed.

* * *

Mason drops me off early in the morning at my apartment after we arrive home from our weekend in LA. As much as I enjoyed the time we spent together, I'm happy to have some alone time.

I sigh and hitch my duffel bag higher on my shoulder while I dig my keys out of my purse. All I want to do is fall into my own bed for the couple of hours I have left before I have to report for my first ever music video shoot.

I push the door open, drop my bags in the living room and disable the security alarm. My blood runs cold when I realize it's already been disarmed. Shit. Did I forget to set it? No. Mason made absolutely sure it was set when we left. The hairs on my neck stand up and I can feel my stomach drop.

Something isn't right here.

The apartment is dark, so I turn on the light in my living room to find it... empty.

Maybe I'm freaking out for no reason.

But I want to give my apartment the all clear, so I enter my bedroom and the first thing I notice is that the feeling of dread gets worse.

And that's the exact moment I see the shadow of a man standing in the middle of my bedroom.

* * *

**If you follow me on Twitter then you were sufficiently warned about the cliffie. *evil laughter***

**It's been far too long since I've thrown one of those out in this story.**

**The song is Stay by Miley Cyrus. I'm not her biggest fan, but that song is like a knife to the heart. I've been waiting for 19 chapters to put that in. I've known all along the exact place for it.**

**For spoilers, updates, and all around randomness, follow me on Twitter: rachellebelle08**

**Again, your reviews are so amazing. You guys are making this story so special for me. Thank you again.**


	20. Somewhere Only We Know

**I'm baaaaaack! I bet you didn't think you'd get a chapter this fast, huh? Well my musie did me well this weekend. Also, my beastly allergies helped since I couldn't do anything else but write. **

**Big thanks to Jenn (elvishgrrl) for beta'ing.  
**

**And to Emma who reads every little thing I send her. She's the best. Really.  
**

**We're picking up where we left off...Also, no one guessed the identity of the stalker correctly. Until last night, Mirna guessed it. ;)  
**

* * *

My first instinct is to run, but the stranger is faster than me and just as I reach my doorway, the door slams in my face. I know it's useless, but I pull at the doorknob desperately until I look up and see a hand on the door holding it closed.

My breathing is coming out in pants and my heart is racing.

"I didn't think I'd enjoy it if you tried to run," a man's voice comes from behind me. "But I guess I was wrong."

I can feel his breath on my neck and it makes me feel nauseous. He slowly backs away from me and starts pacing the floor of my bedroom. I take advantage of his distraction to flip on the lights. There, in the middle of my room, is a nice looking man - one that doesn't seem like he's capable of breaking and entering. He has broad shoulders, perfectly styled brown hair, and green eyes.

"What do you want with me?" I whisper, because I can't muster much more.

That seems to piss him off because he lunges at me and wraps a hand around my neck, pressing my back painfully into the door and cutting off my airway. I claw desperately at his hand, but it makes no difference.

"What do I want from you? Well, I'm already in your head. Remember those letters?" His eyes are so sinister and his words make my heart freeze.

"And soon I'm going to be in your body, so next time a man wants to be there, you'll only be able to think of me." The combination of what he is saying and the lack of oxygen are making me lightheaded. I can't focus on anything but his voice and the white spots clouding my vision. "You'll be ruined."

He lets out a satisfied chuckle before he leans in close, pressing his chest against mine before whispering, "Just like Damon did to Katherine."

And then everything goes black.

* * *

The first thing I register is that my legs are cold.

The second is that my head feels like it's been hit with a baseball bat.

I let out a groan. I can't be suffering from jet lag this bad.

The third thing I realize is that my wrists are bound together behind my back. What the fuck?

"Ah, she's finally coming around." A man's voice enters my consciousness and suddenly everything comes back to me in stunning HD.

My eyes shoot open to find the man sitting on the edge of my bed, shirtless and holding my phone in his hand. I look down at myself and see that I'm dressed only in my underwear and a button down shirt. I recognize it as the shirt that he was wearing earlier.

My phone starts ringing in his hand. It only rings once before he silences it.

"You have a lot of people trying to find you," he murmurs, almost like he's talking to himself.

"Why me?" I ask quietly, not wanting to set him off in any way.

"Because it's just so poetic. Damon brought this on himself and on you," the man replies with a small smile that makes me want to vomit.

"What did he do to you?" I try my best to sound concerned and sympathetic, to make him feel like he's not being attacked.

"He killed my child," the man answers simply.

I'm absolutely sure my eyes bug out of my head. Then something that Damon said once runs through my mind.

_Kat, I didn't kill the baby, I swear._

"Oh my God," I whisper, feeling my heart clench.

"He stole Katherine from me," the man continues, staring at the wall, but not really seeing anything.

"But not completely. I still had her heart," he says, with a bitter smile. "When we found out she was pregnant, it was unreal. I thought she would leave Damon for good, but then he started pressuring her into getting married and buying a house together because he assumed the baby was his. She was so stressed out and worried about the pregnancy in the first place, but Damon didn't care. All he cared about was 'making it right'. I was with her when she miscarried. All that pressure Damon put on her forced her body to reject the baby."

Holy shit.

My heart breaks completely in my chest. I ache for what Damon went through. How traumatized he must have been. How much something this horrific must have affected him.

"It took Kat two years to come to terms with losing that baby," the man continues, his voice now harsh and cold. "And yet, she's still in love with him. He's taken every person who has ever loved me. He's a selfish bastard that deserves what is coming to him."

The realization that I'm going to be used in this ploy to get revenge on Damon dawns on me and the panic sets in again. I'm bound and nearly naked with a man who is out of control. Who has bottled all his anger and resentment and grief for two years and it's finally boiling over.

"That's where you come in, 'Lena." He turns and looks at me with the hunger a man would look at a prostitute with. The nickname makes me shudder.

The content of his letters comes back to me and I realize just what this man is capable of. It's all my worst nightmares come to life. I've never been so scared.

Suddenly, he lifts my phone and I hear the click of a photo being taken. He took a photo of me. What is wrong with this man?

I watch, frozen in fear, as he types on my phone. I hear the swish that signals a text message has been sent. What did he do? Who did he send that to?

I'm about to start begging for my freedom when my phone rings again, and this time the man smiles.

"This is just too easy," he muses as he puts the phone on speaker. "Hello, brother."

Oh. My. God.

"Stefan." Damon's voice is tight, like he's holding onto his control by a mere thread. The sound of his voice brings tears to my eyes. I've been so good about not crying, not being weak until now.

_Please save me, Damon_.

"I take it you got my picture?" Stefan says happily.

"If you touch her, so help me God, I will kill you with my bare hands," Damon hisses.

"Touch her how?" Stefan asks, feigning innocence. He reaches out so fast that I have no time to react when he strikes me across the face. A strangled cry leaves my lips as I fall onto the mattress, my arms stuck between it and my body.

"Son of a bitch!" Damon's roar echoes around my bedroom.

"Or touch her another way, maybe?" Stefan says as his hand slides up one of my bare legs. His intention is clear, and I start squirming and fighting, but he lays the phone on my nightstand and holds me down with his body as his fingers continues their journey north. I try to keep silent, knowing that he's just trying to get a rise out of Damon.

But when his fingers slip past the elastic of my panties, I cry out as I struggle against him with all of my strength.

"You got yourself a fighter, brother. And judging by how wet she is, she obviously enjoys it," Stefan declares almost giddily, sitting back and making a point to lick his fingers as loudly as possible. "And she's delicious."

More tears leave my eyes. My body has betrayed me in my moment of fear, the adrenaline manifesting itself in the worst way possible.

A painful growl comes from the speaker of my phone before the call disconnects.

I'm not a religious person, but I pray that Damon is coming to save me. This is the one situation that could break me.

"This is going to be much more fun than I thought," Stefan says with his eyes on me, rubbing his hands together like a kid on Christmas morning staring the piles of wrapped presents waiting to be opened.

"But I'm not going to enjoy my treat just yet," he says decisively. "Anticipation is the part that really kills. Not _if_, but _when_."

"You sick son of a bitch," I spit at him and not ten seconds later, my head snaps to the side from the force of his backhand. Fine with me, I'd rather be hit than raped.

He leaps off the bed and starts pacing the floor again. Like a caged animal, totally agitated. He runs his hands through his hair over and over again. I'm not sure how long he paces for, but every time he turns to cross the floor again, I breathe a little sigh of relief. He hasn't come at me. Yet.

But just as that thought runs through my mind, he turns toward me, that sadistic gleam in his eyes. He stalks toward the bed slowly, and I scramble backward awkwardly, knocking over pillows in my haste to put as much distance between us as I can.

He crawls up onto the bed and I start kicking at him. I refuse to go down without a fight. But he captures one ankle in his hand and easily yanks me down the bed. He braces his forearm across my chest to keep me on the bed while he wedges his hips between my legs. My panic has gone into overload. My breathing is erratic and my limbs are no longer coordinated or cooperating.

"I'll make it good for you, 'Lena," he whispers in my ear. His hot breath is sticky on my neck.

Please don't let this happen. _Please._

Even as I mentally beg some unknown deity for help, my underwear get ripped from my hips and I hear the telltale sound of a zipper being lowered. I can't do anything, I can't even wipe the tears rolling down my cheeks. I try to get my brain to leave my body, to push away the feeling of Stefan moving over me, positioning himself, but I can feel it all. Every movement.

I've accepted that this is going to happen and maybe if I don't fight it, it won't hurt as bad, but then suddenly Stefan's weight is gone. Just gone. I hear grunting and the sound of flesh pummeling flesh over the edge of my bed, but I can't sit up to see who is down there.

Who saved me.

Everything moves in slow motion. I hear yelling down the hall and a swarm of men in uniform flood my room. They are yelling and have their guns drawn. Where did they come from? How did they get here?

The questions that are running rampant in my mind come to a screeching halt when I see Damon slowly rise from the floor. He has a little blood coming from his lip and I notice some blood on his fist. His eyes are so full of pain as he stares at me and when his gaze flicks to the man on the ground, I understand the magnitude of what just happened.

I break out in a cold sweat and my whole body starts convulsing with wet sobs. I'm trying to gasp for air, but I get none. I feel like everything is closing in on me, the weight in my chest keeping my lungs from fully expanding. I can't move and I struggle against the binds that hold my wrists behind my back, but it only adds to my anxiety.

"Elena!" Damon calls my name as he cradles my face in his hands, forcing me to look up into his face. "You're okay, you're safe. He didn't do it."

He didn't do it.

As his words register, he deftly unties the ropes around my wrists until they are free.

_He didn't do it._

I'm not sure I had any left, but even more tears stream down my face as I throw my arms around his neck and hold on as the shakes go through me. I fist the fabric of his shirt like he's a lifeline. But he doesn't touch me much, just holds me steady. I don't think I could handle more than that.

"It's okay," Damon whispers, his voice is so soothing - like a balm to my shattered emotions. "You're safe."

I'm safe.

Safe with Damon.

* * *

When I have myself pulled together, I give my statement to the police officer. He looks disturbed. Probably because I recount my experience as if I'm talking about the weather. No emotion. Almost like it happened to someone else.

The last of the police officers leave, telling me that they'll be in touch about court dates and I breathe a sigh of relief. I just want the quiet.

"You ready?" Damon's voice is soft in the silent room. I welcome it because it's his voice that told me I was safe. Every time he speaks, that's all I hear.

"Yeah," I reply, rising off the couch and slinging my duffel over my shoulder. So much for unpacking.

We leave my apartment together and I make sure my door is locked. Not that it matters any more.

We approach the elevator and there is a large man standing outside of it wearing a suit and sunglasses. He nods at Damon then speaks into a microphone on his earpiece as we step into the elevator.

"Who was that?" I ask, when the elevator doors close.

"Part of your new security team. You are to go nowhere without them," he explains, his voice is commanding and his eyes never leave the elevator doors.

"Damon, I don't need babysitters," I say as calmly as I can.

"You listen very carefully," he snaps, turning his burning gaze on me. "You are going nowhere without them and I don't care if you cry, throw a tantrum, threaten to behead or castrate me, this is one thing I'm not backing down on."

I only stare at him. And I think I choose wisely to not comment.

After a tense moment, he sighs and runs his hand through his already messy hair.

"Sorry, I'm just at my wits end. I didn't know what he was going to do to you." His quiet honesty and vulnerability are disarming.

I'm saved from forming a response of any kind by the elevator doors sliding open to reveal another large man in a suit. This will get old fast, but I have to admit, it is kind of comforting.

"You never told me you had a brother," I say when we climb into his Range Rover.

"I don't," he bites out as he starts the engine and backs out. I guess that's the end of that conversation.

We drive in silence, but I revel in it. We don't need words to feel comfortable and I really just don't want to talk any longer. I'm grateful to Damon because he just gets it.

I stare out the window unseeing as the rainy scenery passes in a blur. Like white noise. It's nice. It's mindless.

But when we pull up to Mason's building, I feel my heart drop a little. I try not to look too far into the reason why. I realize he's probably been worried sick. I look out the window and see Mason pacing the floor of the lobby.

"Are you okay?" Damon's voice is soft and worried and all I hear is _you're safe_.

"Yeah," I say, turning away from the window and looking him in the eyes. "I just didn't expect to come here. That's all."

"You don't have to stay here, Elena," he says fervently. "You say the word - name the place - and I'll take you there, no questions asked."

"No, it's fine," I wave him off, but the conviction in his voice stays with me. Comforts me. Gives me back some of the control I feel like I lost.

I grab my bag that's lying at my feet and slide out of Damon's car. There is security everywhere and I briefly notice the lack of strange men with cameras. Before I walk into the building, I turn back to Damon. He's watching me intently, no doubt wanting to know for himself that I'm safe. I'm sure for someone so accustomed to control, it's killing him to leave me in someone else's care.

"Thank you," I say with all the gratitude I can muster. Because I'm not just thanking him for the ride, or for the security, or for the lack of press because I know he had a hand in that. I'm thanking him for everything. For saving me. For telling me I was safe. I am safe.

He gives me a soft smile, one that I feel blessed to see and it's all I need before I turn and hurry inside and out of the falling rain.

Mason's head snaps to the entrance when I walk in and his face melts into one of sheer relief.

"Oh, thank God," he breathes, gathering me in his arms. He is breathing heavily in my ear and it's all just a little too much. But he doesn't let me go, so I pull my way out of his grip, careful not to hurt his feelings.

The whole ride up to his loft, I'm bombarded with questions. He wants to know everything about the investigation against Stefan, what I told the police, how Damon figured out where I was, how long I was held hostage - it's overload. Complete overload.

I answer as much as I can without getting into details. I don't want him to know what happened in my bedroom with Stefan. I don't want anyone to know. Nobody needs that pain and horror weighing on their conscious.

We get into Mason's loft and I'm just dead on my feet.

"I - uh - made up a bed for you in the guest bedroom," Mason says awkwardly. I think he's finally catching onto the fact that I don't want to talk anymore.

He leads me down a hallway, opposite the one leading to his, and opens the door to a sparsely decorated room. There is only a bed, a nightstand with a small lamp on it and a door that leads to a bathroom and one to a closet I assume

"Thank you for this," I tell him, gesturing to the small bedroom. I can't believe he thought of this. Something that I didn't even know I needed it until it was right in front of me.

He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot before confessing, "Damon called and said it might be a good idea."

I almost smile.

Of course he did.

* * *

**I had such mixed reactions to the last chapter, so I'm VERY curious to see what you all think about this chapter.**

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	21. Need You Now

**Three chapters within a week. Not even a week! Man I'm on a roll!**

**I appreciate every single review you guys give. Every time I read one I start to smile. And anytime I start to feel insecure about this story or my writing, sure enough, another review will come in and cheer me right up. So thank you all so much for that.**

**Thank you to Jenn (elvishgrrl) for beta'ing for me. You've really done an awesome job for me!**

**And to my twin, Emma! I sent her like 18 million drafts of this. And she sent me a bunch of inspiration and suggestions to make it just that much better. Thank you! **

**Also I feel the need to mention that I know this chapter will get a lot of mixed feelings. But you guys just have to trust me. Those who have read PYLM know that. ;) There will also be an even bigger AN at the end. Because I feel like those who don't quite trust me may need a little more explanation as to why I chose to do what I did.**

**HAHAHA and if that hasn't scared you, congratulations! Like I've said on twitter, what happens in this chapter is so poignant for Elena's relationship with Damon. You won't see it right away, but in the coming chapters you will. Welcome to the end of M/E.**

* * *

I'm back to normal.

At least I think I am. I've been too busy to really take notice. I guess that's the whole point, though.

I've been on a plane eight times in the past month. Flying to everywhere and anywhere. Doing interviews, writing music, recording music. I've averaged about four hours of sleep a night and it's finally catching up to me, but if I don't sleep long, I don't have nightmares.

I haven't talked much about what happened. Mostly because Mason has stopped asking and Damon knows better than to even try. Everyone else just pretends like it didn't happen.

Sometimes I pretend it didn't happen.

But it did and soon I'm going to have to face that. For now everyone is letting me do what I want. They make excuses as to why I'm so suddenly busy. Why I'm running myself into the ground. Why I'm taking on more than I can handle. I let them make excuses. I'm walking a fine line and at some point I know it's gonna bite me in the ass, but it hasn't yet.

Mason has been content to let me sleep in a separate bed when I'm at his place. And to his credit he's not tried once to ask for more. Or pressure me into having sex with him. I'm just not ready and I'm grateful to him for realizing that.

We're on break at the studio from our planning, plotting and generally preparing for world domination. I decide to do what I do best and wander the halls. I don't end up wandering far because - like a magnet - I'm back inside my writing room.

It's been a long time since I've been in this room. I've written many songs in here and the moment I walk in, I feel the inspiration seep into my bones. For the first time in a month, I feel like me again. Surprisingly, I don't welcome the feeling. I've spent the past four weeks convincing myself that I would just have to find a new normal. That I'm fine. That there's nothing wrong.

I knew even then that it was a lie.

I just don't know how to get me back. The old me. The happy one. The levelheaded one. The brave and strong one. I'm none of those things. Not now. Not anymore. But I pretend and so far it's working for me. I need to survive and this is the only way I know of right now.

And it's okay. I'm surviving.

I hear the door open and close behind me and turn to see Mason smiling at me.

"Hi," I say softly, enjoying the calm that I feel in this room.

"Hey," he replies slowly, walking toward me. "It's nice seeing you back in your element. It's easy to tell that you love being surrounded by instruments just waiting to be played and music wanting to be written."

"It feels good," I say with a smile.

Mason comes even closer and cups my face in his hands.

"I proud of you, you know that, right?" he asks, his voice quiet and sweet.

"Yeah, I do," I whisper, right before his lips touch mine.

They are soft and uncertain against mine. I expect to feel some sort of anxiety, but I feel nothing except warmth. Maybe I can do this. My lips respond and my hands rest on his hips, pulling him closer to me. As the kiss deepens, I let my hands smooth over his hard chest, enjoying the feel of his heart beating under my palm. His body coaxes mine backward until my back hits the wall and his hands travel down my sides to the tops of my thighs. His chest is pressed hard against mine, trapping my arms between our bodies.

I force myself to take calming breaths when his lips trail down my neck because my hands are trapped, just like they were in my bedroom with Stefan. I can feel my anxiety rising, but I try to push it back. But then he's breathing hard on my neck and his hands are trailing up my thighs and under my skirt.

"Did I mention that I love when you wear skirts, 'Lena?" he whispers huskily. The nickname makes me cringe.

"Stop," I mumble, trying to control my breathing, my shaking hands, and my heart rate. I just need to take a step back to get myself under control.

"Shh, it's just me, 'Lena," he says into my skin, trying to comfort me. When his fingers touch me through my underwear, I lose it.

In my mind, I'm back in my bedroom, completely out of control and at the mercy of some sick stranger. I can feel his breath, his touch and I can hear his voice. I feel dirty and everything just feels wrong. It's too much.

"STOP!" I scream. I know it's bordering on screeching, but I don't care. "Stop! Stop! Please, just STOP!"

I'm fighting back, kicking hard and trying to escape my living nightmare.

I drop to the ground and the impact seems to bring me back to the present. Mason is a few feet away now, his hands help up like I'm a cornered animal as Damon bursts through the door.

"What the-" I hear Damon say, and then he follows it with a curse when he sees me.

I'm sure I look a mess - skirt pushed up around my waist, wide fearful eyes, pale face and shaking all over.

I watch Damon put the pieces together as his eyes flick between me and Mason.

"Elena," Mason says softly, trying to take a step toward me, but Damon steps between us.

"Back up, Lockwood," Damon barks.

Mason doesn't seem to take offense, he just moves back with a heartbroken look on his face. It kills me that I put it there. That I'm so screwed up, I can't even make my own boyfriend happy. How have I lost this much control? How have I let Stefan take so much from me?

I feel tears sting my eyes and I don't bother trying to stop them from falling.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my eyes on Mason. "I'm so sorry."

Mason slowly backs away as Alaric walks in. He surveys the scene and then takes Mason by the arm to lead him out, leaving Damon and I alone.

"You're okay, Elena," he says. His voice is soft, but his words are strong as he moves to sit next to me. Not too close, but not too far. "You're at the studio. Stefan can't hurt you ever again."

"He still is," I choke out through my pain. "He got what he wanted. He ruined me."

My voice breaks and more tears fall. Everything is out of my control, my own body even. It's so overwhelming and I'm so tired and stressed and angry that I let Stefan have all this power over me.

"You can't think like that, Elena," Damon says vehemently. "You can't let him control your life."

We stay there for a while, both leaning against the wall, neither saying a thing and only the sound of my sniffling fills the silence. I don't need him to say anything, just having him here relieves my anxiety.

As my tears dry I come to the realization that I've been letting Stefan control everything. Because of him I've been working nonstop for a month straight. Because of him I've barely touched my own boyfriend and had a panic attack when he touched me. Because of him, I'm miserable. He's winning. He's getting what he wanted. To ruin me.

I need control. I need to take my life back or else it's going to slip out of my grasp so quickly. I need to conquer this. I need to prove to myself that I can get back to normal. That sex and intimacy aren't impossible for me. I can't let Stefan take anything else from me.

"You're stronger than all this," Damon murmurs.

"Yeah?" My voice is gravely from the tears.

"I seem to remember a particular moment when you threatened to walk if you didn't get to drop the song you wanted," he says, with a smile in his voice. I turn to see him gazing at me with amusement twinkling in his eyes and I can't help but smile a little.

Yeah, I was pissed that day.

"You're going to survive this, Elena," he says seriously. "Don't give that asshole one more minute of your life."

"How did you get so good at this?" I ask, and for several long moments, I doubt he's going to answer.

"I can't say that I've been through the same thing, but I know the feeling of being out of control. Of feeling like you aren't in control of your own life. Like everything you do is dependent on something or someone else," he says, not looking at me but staring straight ahead.

Wow. Talk about hitting the nail on the head.

"Thank you," I say, instead of pressing for details. "For everything."

"You're welcome," he replies as he pushes himself off the ground before holding his hand out to me. "Now get back to work, we don't pay you to sit on your ass all day."

Playful Damon is something I haven't seen very often.

In fact, if I think about it, ever since the dressing room incident, he's been different. He's still been Damon, but something has changed. There is something almost carefree about him. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He gives me a reassuring smile and for the first time in a month, I feel like I'm normal. And it gives me hope that it's possible.

Now I just have to go and make it happen.

* * *

I leave my bodyguard outside the building doors after being followed here from the studio. I give myself a mental pep talk as I take the elevator to the top floor. Damn these country superstars and their affinity for high-rise buildings.

I take a deep breath once I'm outside Mason's door and knock. I hear him shuffling around inside and it makes me smile.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Mason says when he opens his door. He looks genuinely surprised to see me and I can't blame him. He was probably expecting me to hide out for the next few days.

"I'm sorry about today. And this past month actually," I explain as I step around him and into his loft. He shuts the door behind me and leans against it.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he says. with a simple shrug.

"I've been keeping you at a distance because I was letting Stefan control my life, but I'm not anymore," I inform him. The words come out sounding so strong, so sure. So much like the old me. It gives me hope that things are going to change. I am going to change them.

I take us both by surprise when I close the distance between us, press him against the door, take his face in my hands and press my lips to his. It doesn't take him long to respond with equal enthusiasm. My hands run through his hair as I press myself against him. I can feel him smiling against my lips and I feel good. I'm taking my life back. I'm not letting Stefan have another second.

My hips tilt upward to feel him against me. His hands skim down my sides and over my ass before they wrap around the backs of my thighs and he lifts me to him. I easily wrap my legs around his waist as our kisses become more heated.

He stumbles through the loft as I work to get rid of his shirt. I can feel heat pulsing through my body with every step he takes and it makes me feel powerful. By the time Mason drops me onto his bed, I've gotten rid of my own shirt and bra.

His hands smooth up my legs to my skirt and with practiced ease, the skirt and my underwear are gone. I feel a moment of panic rise in my chest being so exposed. I remind myself that I'm not ruined. I'm not broken. I'm still a woman. I can do this.

Mason worships my body with his mouth and his hands as I mentally cheer myself on, fighting to keep away any anxiety that threatens my peace of mind.

His mouth is soft and steady against my sex and it feels good, but it's just not doing it for me. I need more, but he seems intent on helping me toward a release this way. His fingers probe and caress while his mouth and tongue work relentlessly against me.

It's still not working.

I bury my hands in his hair and pull, removing his attention from my nether regions.

"I want you," I tell him. "Now."

That seems to be fine with him because he fishes a condom out of his jeans before he shucks them and climbs up my body faster than I could say 'Go.' He sheathes himself, braces his body above me and pushes in. He's slow but persistent. He doesn't stop, doesn't pull back until he's seated fully inside me.

He moves at an achingly slow pace. It's tortuous. I'm enjoying it, yes, but it's not enough for me.

"Faster," I mumble, placing my hands on his hips to try and urge him on.

He complies, but it's still not enough. He pushes and pulls faster and faster and I can tell he's nearing his limit, yet I'm nowhere near my own.

"Are you close?" he asks between pants. He's covered in sweat and barely holding onto his control and I'm so neutral I could be eating apple slices for how worked up I am.

Mason pauses for a brief second with a heavy sigh. It hurts to hear it. He's frustrated. I'm frustrated. But he takes me by surprise when he rolls over, taking me with him and has me straddle him. I feel him sink deeper inside and I smile a little. Maybe all I needed was a change of position.

I start moving slowly, hoping he'll have a chance to settle down. Once he seems a little more in control, I brace my hands on his chest and really start to move. I close my eyes and try to be all touch and feelings, but I can't get out of my head. I keep telling myself to let go, let loose and enjoy this, but it's not working.

Mason's hands smooth up my thighs and my sides to cup my breasts. I arch into his touch, trying to force myself into my release. I concentrate on where we are connected, swiveling my hips to hit just the right spot. My thighs are starting to burn from how many times I've lifted myself off of him and I'm starting to breathe heavily from the exertion alone.

The only sounds in the room are our heaving breaths and the sound of our flesh slapping together. I try to lose myself in the sounds of our lovemaking. One of his hands slides down my stomach and to the place where we're connected. His fingers flick and caress that little bundle of nerves and he's trying to hard to coax me into my release before he loses it, but I just can't. I feel no tightening, no tingling, no muscle spasms. Nothing.

Not a fucking thing.

The heartbreaking realization hits me like a cold bucked of water and I reach down to pull his hand away. I can't do this anymore. It's not working. I roll off of him and flop down onto the bed with a sigh. We're both panting and frustrated and the distance between us right now is monumental despite the fact that we're lying naked in the same bed.

Mason pushes himself up off the mattress and agitatedly throws the condom into the trashcan before he disappears into the bathroom. No doubt to take care of himself because I couldn't.

I stare up at the ceiling and Stefan's words come back to me, _And soon, I'm going to be in your body so next time a man wants to be there, you'll only be able to think of me. You'll be ruined._

I try to push them from my mind, but it seems impossible tonight when I'm staring failure right in the face. What if I'm never the same? What if Mason and I can't overcome this? And for some reason, I don't think we ever will. After the past month, I don't think he's going to be patient with me much longer. And I won't blame him.

I roll over onto my side and stare at the wall as I listen to the sound of the shower come on. Every ounce of the bravery I had just a half hour ago is gone and now I just feel insecure and scared and broken. I hate being this girl. I hate the emotions running through me. I've always been so composed, so strong, so in control and now I'm just not.

The shower shuts off as a few traitorous tears escape my eyes and soak into the pillow when I finally hear Mason open the bathroom door. I feel the mattress dip with his weight as he settles against the pillows.

He doesn't reach for me. Doesn't say a word. No _it's okay_, or _we'll try again_, or even _we'll figure it out_. He doesn't even attempt to comfort me.

The silence is what hurts the most.

* * *

I jolt awake, the morning sun bright in my eyes. I glance around the living room and try to get my bearings. I must have fallen asleep on the couch after I snuck out of bed to try and write out my feelings.

Speaking of writing, my notebook is nowhere to be seen. I glance around to find Mason sitting on the other end of the couch, holding my notebook.

This isn't going to end well.

"What did that bastard do to you, Elena?" he asks, and it's obvious he's working to keep himself under control. "And don't say that you're okay, because you're not. That much was clear last night."

"I didn't want to burden you with all the details," I say, staring down at my hands and feeling like a small child.

"But obviously Damon knows," Mason says bitterly, practically hissing Damon's name.

"Because he was there!" I say with a little more bite than I intended. He looks surprised by my outburst, but only for a moment before he goes back to glaring at me.

"Yeah, and apparently he's not been far from your mind," he seethes, tossing my notebook onto the couch cushion between us. It lands face up and open to the song I was working on last night.

My eyes scan over the open notebook. There are words scratched out, tear stains on the pages - a physical manifestation of my inner turmoil. The title is scrawled in big letters in the top margin. It makes it clear that there are things Mason can't give me.

Because _Need You Now_ wasn't written with Mason in mind. I know and I know he knows.

"I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you don't feel anything for him anymore. That you are just leaning on him because he saved you," Mason finally says. His voice is soft and so, so cold. It breaks my heart.

I never wanted to do this to Mason. I wanted to be with him. To love him. And I tried so hard to make sure Damon wouldn't come between us. I guess that was a pipe dream.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. I can feel tears stinging my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I won't do that to him. I won't degrade him like that.

He says nothing and I decide that my presence is only making things worse. So I gather my notebook and the few things I brought with me when I showed up last night.

When I reach his front door, I glance back at him one last time. His elbows are resting on his knees and his head is in his hands. He looks so miserable and I hate myself for doing this to him. I can't even blame the abduction for this. This was a long time coming and I just chose to ignore it.

I give my bodyguard a small nod as I exit Mason's building. They obviously switched off in the night because it's not the same person that was with me last night. I've seen him several times, so I don't panic at the change. He follows me in a black SUV as I drive home.

The drive feels so long. The guilt about Mason is overwhelming. I feel like I've failed in so many aspects of our relationship. And the shame from last night is still weighting heavy on my conscious.

My phone rings right as I enter my apartment. I answer it as soon as I see it's Caroline calling.

"There is something you need to see. Like now," her voice is urgent and so full of concern that I scramble to my computer as fast as I can.

I feel a little relief when she tells me to look up a gossip blog. It can't be too big of an emergency if it's on there. The web pages opens and I stop dead.

"Oh my God," I whisper, completely forgetting about Caroline on the phone.

I scroll through the page and it's full of paparazzi photos. There are so many it's making my head spin. The title of the article is driven home with every picture I scroll past.

Mason has been cheating on me.

* * *

**Y'all still with me?**

**So for my elaboration: When I started this story, I never intended to go into detail about the M/E relationship. Until this point, I've been able to get away with it without feeling like my story was lacking anything. So when I made the choice to write their sex scene out in detail, I felt like it couldn't be avoided. What happens in it is so pivotal to Elena's story and how she finds her way back to Damon that I couldn't just fade to black and make mention that she couldn't get off. It needed to be experienced through her eyes in the moment. The frustration and hurt that she felt needed to be read firsthand.**

**So this is one of the rare times that I'll ever explain why I did what I did because I know a lot of people are having issues with Elena and Mason being together in a DE story. Well, it's safe to say Mason and Elena aren't together anymore. We'll see Mason again, but not for long.**

**Follow me on Twitter for story info, spoilers, and other fun things: rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love. They really are. This is the riskiest chapter I've ever written so I'd love some feedback.**


	22. Near to You

**Thank you all for your sweet reviews last chapter! I loved every single one. Your support means the world. And HOLY ONE THOUSAND REVIEWS, BATMAN! WHAT?!**

**Also allow me to introduce my new beta, Layla Reyne! *applause* She did an amazing job with this chapter and I'm way excited that she's volunteered to help. Also thanks to LuveSucks and Sandra for volunteering as well. You guys are all amazing. Thank you!**

**Thanks to Emma as well for being awesome and letting me bug her with questions. She's the best.**

* * *

I think I've been staring at this computer screen for hours. At least that's what it feels like. Caroline's long since said her piece about what a low-life Mason is and I mumbled my agreement before we hung up.

Sadly, I'm not shocked. I'm pissed. Hurt. Livid. Betrayed. Violated. But not shocked. _What is that saying?_ If they aren't getting any from you, they'll get it from someone else.

After the disastrous encounter we had last night, and then being confronted about Damon this morning, I'm feeling pretty fucking betrayed. How could he do this to me? After everything I went through, after he got so upset with me about Damon, the whole time he's been doing much worse.

And the real kicker is that according to this article they suspect he just started seeing this person shortly after my attack. Talk about adding insult to injury. I feel like he's made a mockery of what I went through. Each time he held my hand and supported me after it happened was a lie. A big fat fucking lie.

If I can't trust Mason to not break my heart, then who can I trust? I feel so alone, so suddenly.

I'm pulled from my seething thoughts when I hear a loud knock at my door. As I walk toward it, I imagine all the things I'm going to say and/or do if I open it to Mason's sorry face. I'm practically growling when I rip it open. But it's not Mason.

It's Damon.

"Caroline called me," he says by way of explanation.

I open the door further and stand aside to let him slip by.

Facing him, I see the concern shining out of his eyes, and he looks like he's desperately fighting the urge to take me in his arms. "Are you okay?"

I think about his question. _Am I okay?_

I was attacked, held hostage and nearly raped in my own home by his crazy brother.

I spent a month trying to pull myself together and when I finally felt ready to reclaim my ability to be intimate, I couldn't even get out of my own head.

I woke up the next morning, this morning, to Mason accusing me of still having feelings for Damon, right before we broke up.

I got home right after said break up to find out that he's been cheating on me the whole time. The entire time I was falling apart. The entire time I was trying to pull myself back together. The entire time I was fighting for control. The entire time I was trying to find myself again.

So, no, I'm not okay.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling so incredibly small.

Life is so very cruel sometimes. I got a brief glimpse of freedom last night. I got to feel what it was like to be in control right before it was ripped right from my fingers.

I can feel tears sting my eyes. _Damn it!_ I don't want to cry. I'm sick of being this person. This weak person who needs people coddling her. And I tried to claw my way out of this hole that I'm in, only to get knocked into an even deeper one.

Damon's voice pulls me from my internal misery. "Hey, there's a lot going on in that head of yours. You want to talk about it?"

Yes, I want to talk about it. I want to so badly, but I just can't.

I'm scared.

And I hate it.

I'm saved from answering when there's another knock at the door. I turn quickly and open it without bothering to check who stands beyond it. I realize how stupid that was when I'm face to face with Mason.

It takes everything in me not to slap him across the face right then and there. He sure fucking deserves it.

"What is _he_ doing here?" he seethes, craning his neck to look inside my apartment and surely seeing Damon standing right behind me.

You have got to be kidding me. "That's really the first thing you are going to say to me?"

This seems to bring his focus back to the topic at hand.

When he speaks, his voice is all soft and pleading and it makes me sick. "Elena."

"What do you want, Mason?" I snap.

"You have to hear me out," he begs.

I scoff and roll my eyes. "I don't _have_ to do anything."

"It was a mistake. A huge mistake." He looks so contrite, but all I can see is his tongue shoved down some actress' throat. According to the rumors, that's not the only thing she sucks.

"How could you do something like that knowing what I was going through?" I ask incredulously, my voice betraying how affected I am by this.

"What about what _I_ was going through?" He did _not_ just fucking say that. "I couldn't hold you or kiss you, and I had no idea why I couldn't and _he_" - Mason gestures to Damon - "could."

"Don't bring Damon into this," I warn, getting defensive. Of course he would try and blame this on Damon.

"That's the problem, Elena. Damon's been in this since day one!" he shouts. "Remember when he ditched you at your own party? Or when you would cry in my arms because he hurt you so badly? Has he heard the song you wrote?"

Every question brings back the memories of what Damon did, but I push them aside. This isn't about Damon or my feelings for him. This is about Mason and how he's a cheating bastard.

"You're not going to get me back, so I don't know why you're here," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, choosing to ignore everything he just brought up.

"Don't you see, Elena? I never had you in the first place." His body sags as the fight goes out of him.

"It's over, Mason," I sigh.

"That much was clear last night," he snaps.

I recoil as if I've been slapped. I can't believe he'd stoop that low. That he could be that cold-hearted.

My response is simple. I actually slap him. Right across the cheek and _damn_ does my hand sting.

"Stay the fuck away from me," I hiss, before slamming the door in his face.

I slump with my back against the door. God, I'm so done with this day. I cover my eyes and try to pretend that Damon isn't standing a few feet from me and that he didn't just hear that entire conversation. It's pointless.

When Damon finally breaks the silence, his voice is low and level, but I can tell it's taking all his control to keep it that way. "What happened last night?"

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him before responding, "That's none of your fucking business."

His voice and eyes both soften. "Elena, you can't keep this stuff bottled up. It'll suffocate you. You need to talk to someone about it."

For the second time in a half hour, you have got to be kidding me. Of all the people on this earth, Damon is telling me that I need to talk about my problems. Pot, meet Kettle.

"And who would that someone be?" I snap, and he has the decency to flinch a little. "You? Like how you talked to me?"

He's stunned into silence. I'm sure the truth of what I said is taking its time sinking in.

Before he can come up with a response, I sigh and open the door.

"I think you should go."

He doesn't fight me on this. He only gives me a long searching look before he disappears out the door.

* * *

I try to throw myself right back into my work because it worked for me last time, but it's not working now. My heart is hidden behind walls so thick that I can't even put it into something that I love. There are no words or maybe there are just too many.

I try to listen when Ric speaks, but I just don't want to. I'm so fucking exhausted with all of this

I know that I'm giving up. I know that I'm running scared. This isn't me, but I can't find it in me to do anything about it. I've lost myself somewhere along the way. I feel even more out of control now than I did in the month after my attack.

I want to find myself, but I know that doing so will mean trudging through all the baggage and pain and shame that I have piled at my feet. So ignoring it is easier. It's a cop out. But every time I try to face the road separating me from where I want to be, it just looks so long, so far, and so hard. I'm not this person who backs down from a challenge, but if I try and can't conquer this, what does that mean for me? I'm not ready to find out.

Some days I wonder why I should even try. There is a line of girls just like me, waiting to take my place. The world wouldn't even notice a difference.

And people have the audacity to tell me that I'm lucky.

"Elena? Did you hear me?"

I snap back to attention. It takes me a minute to remember that I'm in Ric's office. That he asked to meet with me.

"Sorry, what was that again?" I ask, shaking my head and attempting to focus on the here and now.

"Are you doing okay with everything?"

No. "Yeah, I'm good." _Liar._

"You sure about that?" he asks, setting his elbows on his desk, and it's like he see's right through me. Shit. I've gotta pull it together.

"I'm fine, Ric," I answer as genuinely as I can. I even give him a small smile. I sure as hell hope it comes off as sincere.

"You're not acting fine, Elena. You are constantly taking on offers, writing music, making appearances and shooting magazine covers. It's too much. You are burying yourself in your work and yet its obvious your heart isn't even in it. There's something up with you, and you need to figure out how to fix it before you run yourself into the ground. Not for your career, but for you. This isn't you." Any other time, his father act would be appreciated. Today it only serves to piss me off.

I don't like how close to home he's hitting.

My fists tighten on the arms of the chair, and I force out another smile. "Thanks, Alaric. I will try."

No, this isn't me. I've never been one to manipulate people, but that's exactly what I have been doing lately. I've convinced everyone close to me that I'm fine, that I'm just tired. This is the first time I've been called out on it, and I don't like it one bit.

I'm spewing bullshit left and right. Because this wouldn't have happened to me. I was so close to getting out of that emotional pit Stefan put me in. So fucking close. I took the final step toward redemption, to regaining my ability to be intimate and it failed in glorious technicolor. And not only was it probably the worst sex known to man, I come to find out that while I was battling my inner demons, Mason was getting it elsewhere, and I tumbled right back down into that emotional black hole.

And I'm so fucking tired of fighting. So tired of trying and failing. There is only so much a girl can take before she breaks.

And I'm hanging on by a dangerously thin thread.

* * *

My sanity is slipping away from me and to make matters worse, I had to testify in court today.

It was harder than I imagined. I had planned to go into it like I did when I gave my statement to the police, but when I was face to face with my attacker, things got very real. I wanted to be cold and soulless for my own well being. I ended up shakily giving my testimony and the details of what happened in my bedroom that morning. And now, as I stand on the steps of the courthouse after my testimony, I realize that this is in fact the hardest part. There are more paparazzi outside the courthouse than I've ever seen in my life and I'm terrified. It's a sea of cameras and people holding microphones. The last thing I want to do is stay in this building any longer, but I sure as hell don't want to dive headlong into _that_.

Luckily, today was a two-bodyguard day, and I have one in front of me, pushing people out of the way, and one behind me who has caged me with his arms, making sure no one can get any closer. I keep my head down and try not to listen to them all yelling my name or asking me questions.

I don't realize how loud they are until I'm in the safety of the private car and there is just stark silence. It's a relief and I sag against the seats. I don't know how I'm going to do this much longer. I'm running on fumes and running myself into the ground, just as Ric predicted. I can't do this alone anymore. I've manipulated every person I care about into thinking that everything is just peachy. It's not. I'm not.

And soon everyone is going to know my secrets. Know what Stefan did to me. Know that I'm not okay. They'll know I'm weak. Ruined. Crushed.

This is all too much.

I stare out the window of the car and when we drive by a dive bar in a shady part of town, I have an idea.

I've never ever turned to alcohol in even my darkest times, but desperate times, right?

"Can you just drop me off here?" I ask the driver.

The car slows, but he looks uncertain. "I'm supposed to take you straight home."

"I know, but it's been a long shitty day and I just want a drink. Just one. Please?" I make eye contact with him in the rearview and I hope my eyes are all big and pleading.

Thank God, it works. He pulls over and lets me off at the sidewalk. When I reach the door, I turn and wave him off before bounding inside. It's liberating.

No one looks up when I walk in and no one questions it when I head straight to the bar and order myself a drink. A strong one.

When the bartender finally sets the drink in front of me, I feel more at ease than I have in nearly two months and I haven't even had a sip yet.

The liquid burns as it goes down, but I savor it. I savor the warmth that settles deep in my belly. God, I've missed this feeling - feeling human. I finish off the drink in two gulps, and I revel in the weightlessness that is already setting in. Probably because I have barely eaten all day. I'm not a novice when it comes to drinking and alcohol. I did go to college. I have a decent tolerance, but without food, that tolerance is nearly nonexistent. Somewhere in my mind it registers that this probably isn't the best idea I've ever had.

But then I think about how I felt Stefan's stare on me all afternoon and how he touched me.

Drink.

How he ruined me.

Drink.

How I fought tooth and nail to prove he didn't, only to be slapped in the face with the cold hard truth that he'd succeeded.

Drink.

How the entire world now knows that I wasn't good enough for Mason. How he cheated on me when all I wanted was to be with him again, to connect with him on that intimate level.

Drink.

My head is spinning, and I've forgotten all the pain that brought me to this point. I try and remember, but I can't. It's a wonderful feeling. I'm numb and alive all at the same time.

I've made good friends with the bartender. I don't remember his name, though he told me twice. I don't care much. He's handsome and has such a beautiful smile. He's the first person who hasn't asked me if I'm okay. He hasn't asked how I'm coping. He hasn't looked at me once with sympathetic eyes. I feel normal. I feel free.

I also feel desired because of the male attention I'm receiving. Not only is the bartender giving me attention, there is a man who sat down next to me and took no time geting up in my personal space. He's been flirting with me for the last half hour, buying me drinks and telling me that I'm beautiful. My sober mind tells me that this is creepy, that he's only doing it because I'm famous and drunk, and I look like an easy lay. But my drunk, insecure mind is telling me to enjoy it. That this is exactly what I need to hear after what happened with Mason.

I make a grab for the fresh glass that my new friend just ordered for me when it suddenly disappears.

"Did you not feel the need to cut her off? Can't you see she's barely staying upright as it is? And if you don't take your hands off of her, I'll break them both."

Oh God. I know that voice. It cuts straight through the drunken haze like a bucket of ice water. I feel my friend's hands disappear and not long after, I watch him scramble away.

I don't want to look up to confirm who I already know is standing there, but I do anyway.

Damon is staring down at me with more anger than I think I've ever seen him possess. If his voice didn't sober me up, his eyes sure do. They are gorgeous as always, but I can see his temper flaring in them. I can see his control slipping.

"We're leaving," he snaps, opening up his wallet and tossing a few bills on the bar without bothering to look at them.

He grabs my arm to pull me away, and I'm instantly brought back to the present. I don't want to leave. I want to stay in this carefree bubble where I don't feel any pain. Where I'm wanted and desired.

"No," I protest, trying to rip my arm from his grasp as he nearly drags me toward the back door of the bar. "I don't need you to save me!"

He lets out an incredulous laugh, his grip only tightening on my arm. "Yeah, you do."

"You're not my boyfriend and last time I checked, you didn't want to be!" I snap at him, not noticing how loud my voice is and that everyone in the bar is now staring at us.

"We're leaving," he responds, his voice low and deadly.

"I don't want to," I murmur petulantly. God, I'm a sloppy drunk. Not that it's going to change anything. The haze is too thick, my stomach too warm.

I try once more to tug my arm from his grip with no success. It only pisses him off more. He turns to face me so fast I almost fall over.

"You get your ass out that door or I'll carry you out myself," he hisses, his face is only a mere inch away from mine and I can feel his breath on my lips.

He means business and even drunk, I know better than to fight him anymore. Not when he's this livid.

We burst out the back door where Damon's Range Rover is waiting along with my security detail. Damn them. They must have called him.

The quiet of the back lot is broken by a man shouting and snapping pictures of me. Oh shit. This does not need to be all over the gossip blogs tomorrow. Damon shoves me into the passenger seat before he turns to the reporter, his body blocking me, preventing any more photos from being taken.

"You are going to delete those photos right this second and if you run this story, I'll fucking end you." His threat chills me to the bone, and I can't imagine how that poor reporter is feeling right about now.

Damon slams the door shut before coming around the front of his car and climbing into the drivers seat.

"Damon," I start to say. I need some of this tension dispelled. Something. Anything.

"Don't even, Elena. Don't say a fucking thing." He's talking to me the same way he spoke to that reporter. I feel three inches tall right about now. I never meant to make him this angry.

Silence settles once more and I decide it's safer to look out the window than at Damon. I watch familiar buildings and streets go by. We near the street that leads to my apartment, but Damon passes it.

"Where are we going?" I ask softly when the scenery becomes unfamiliar and I know for sure we aren't headed to Damon's penthouse either.

His answer is short and leaves much to the imagination.

"Away from here."

* * *

**Where are they going...? :)**

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**Your reviews are love. They really are the best things ever.**


	23. Never Let Me Go

**I'm baaaaaaaack. Again, thank you all so very much for your kind words. You all make writing this so rewarding. **

**BIG thank you's to Layla Reyne for being and absolutely amazing beta. And to my 'Editor Emma' for having such GENIUS ideas for this chapter. **

**If you follow me on twitter/tumblr you know that I've been fangirling about this chapter since Monday. It gives me so many feels and I hope it gives you all feels as well!**

* * *

I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a Mack Truck. My head is throbbing, my throat is dry and I'm nauseous.

I warily crack my eyes open to find myself in a strange room. It's filled with sunlight and the furniture is all dark wood. I'd probably find it warm and cozy if I didn't feel like the walking dead.

I notice that I'm still in my clothes from the day before yet I don't quite remember how I ended up here. I glance at the nightstand and find a glass of water next to a note with two pills on top.

_Elena-_

_Take these and drink the water. There are clothes in the closet and the bathroom is stocked. When you are finished, come downstairs._

_-D_

Seeing the note in his handwriting brings back my memories of the bar. He was so angry with me and now that I'm sober, I'm angry with myself. Drinking in a dive bar alone? Not the smartest decision I've ever made.

I try not to think of what is waiting for me downstairs as I toss the pills into my mouth and down the entire glass of water in a few long draughts. It's the perfect temperature, which makes me wonder how recently he was in here. I already start to feel better.

I push myself out of the four-poster bed and move to the window to get an idea of where I am. Holy crap! We are not in Kansas anymore. All I see out the window are sprawling green pastures, rolling hills in the distance and a barn off to the side of the yard. Everything is in bloom in the spring weather, and it's absolutely gorgeous. It's like a whole other world.

Where did he bring me?

I reluctantly tear my eyes away from the window to get myself a shower and wash the smell of alcohol off me. The bathroom, not surprisingly, is gorgeous, with powder blue walls, a big wooden vanity and a snail shower. The near-scalding water feels amazing on my skin, and I stand there letting it wash away my sins. Or so it feels.

I finish up my shower and wrap my body and hair in the fluffy towels that are laid out for me, then check out the closet. I've been curious about it since I read the note. Did he bring my clothes here? Am I borrowing someone else's clothes?

No, it looks like he bought me a whole wardrobe that is perfectly suited for this place. There are jeans, jean shorts, fleece button ups, tank tops and anything else I'd need here, including underwear. Wow. How long has he been planning this? And how the hell does he know my size?

I pull on a pair of loose jeans and a tank top. I decide to let my hair dry naturally rather than hunt down a blow dryer, so instead of my usual straight locks, they are slightly wavy. I don't even attempt make up. I already know there is none here, and I kind of like that. It's forcing me back to my roots a little bit and out of the glamor of the limelight.

I'm more than a little nervous as I exit the safety of my bedroom. The floors are all dark wood and I let my hand run along the thick polished railing as I walk down the stairs. This whole house is gorgeous. The wooden floors continue throughout the bottom floor, which is totally open and airy. The whole place makes me want to snuggle up next to the fire - in the giant stone fireplace.

I can hear Damon moving around in the kitchen, and I'm tempted to sneak away to where I see a guitar propped against the opposite wall rather than face him and his wrath. But I know that'll never go over well, so I pull up my big girl panties and make my way into the kitchen.

Even this room screams ranch house. The kitchen is full of sunshine and wooden countertops and white cabinets. Damon is at the stove cooking up something that smells delicious and humming to himself.

"Ah, she wakes," he teases, sliding a plate stacked full of pancakes and bacon across the breakfast bar toward me. I glance up at him, and he's busying himself, piling his own plate high, and then plopping onto the stool next to me.

He says nothing else before he digs in and I follow suit. The food is so good and my stomach greedily accepts every last morsel. We eat in silence until both of our plates are nearly scraped clean.

When Damon takes our dishes to the sink, I finally break the quiet.

"So, where are we?"

"On my ranch. Far away from whatever has gotten into you. Three hours away, to be exact," he answers, still washing the dishes.

_Three hours?_

"I have to go back, Damon," I tell him, panic setting in while I catalogue all the things I need to do this week. I don't have time for a day off. I leap off my stool, ready to start walking back if I need to.

He finally turns around and crosses his arms over his chest, leveling me with a serious glare. Uh-oh, he's pissed again.

"Why, because you have more work to do? Bullshit. You've been working damn hard to show that you don't care. Now sit your ass back down. You're not going anywhere," he snaps. The tension in this house skyrocketing.

"I don't need to be saved," I shoot back. I'm not backing down. Hell no.

"So you wanted the millions of young girls who look up to you to see you stumbling drunk and belligerent out of a bar?" he asks brutally. "That's the message you want to send them? That when times get tough they need to turn to alcohol instead of coping?"

The truth of his words cuts right through those walls I've built over the past two months, and it only pisses me off. I hate him for being right. "Fuck you!" I spit, turning on my heel and marching out of the kitchen.

"You're hanging on by a thread, Elena," Damon barks, as he grabs hold of my arm and forces me to face him. "I can see that as clear as day. Everyone can."

"I'm fine," I declare slowly, emphasizing every syllable while glaring at him and jerking my arm back.

"The hell you are," he nearly snarls, his face only inches from mine. "Then tell me what happened with Mason." I press my hands to his chest and push with all my strength.

"I told you it's none of your goddamn business," I hiss, and my chest is heaving with the energy it takes to fight with him.

"I'm making it my business," he says, slowly walking toward me again.

"Why does it matter? Huh, Damon? Tell my why it matters to you," I shoot back.

"Because I- I-" he growls in frustration and runs his hands through his hair. "I care about you, Elena! I care!" he yells, his voice filling the large open space around us.

The weight of his words are pressing on my chest, making it hard to breath and reminding me that it's not possible. My words from that day in my apartment come back to me.

_That's what people do when they love someone. They care._

Not even Mason cared about me so how could Damon - someone who claims to not believe in love – now claim to care.

"You can't," I say, shaking my head and trying to back away again, but Damon prevents it by taking hold of my arm.

"Why? Tell me why," he prods softly, his eyes searching mine. And that's when the razor thin thread of my pitiful existence finally snaps.

"Because I'm broken, Damon!" I scream, balling my hands into fists and beating them against his chest. "I'm unlovable, and my own boyfriend cheated on me because I'm too messed up to satisfy him!"

My eyes are stinging with the threat of tears as I take out all my anger and pain on him.

"God, I can't even get out of my own head long enough to get myself off," I continue. "And then he cheated on me! They broke me, Damon! Is that what you want to hear? Does that help you understand?"

He says nothing, simply taking my attack until the fight goes out of me. Then his arms wrap around me and hold me to his chest while the sobs overcome me. They are excruciating. My whole body seems to be convulsing with every wave of tears, every hitch of my breath. And Damon stands strong, scooping me into his arms like a small child when my legs finally give out from under me.

"It hurts," I repeatedly whimper into his neck. His skin is so warm against the cold that has settled into my bones. I wrap my arms tighter around him, wishing I could crawl under his skin and let him melt the ice inside me. Let him heal me.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, as his hand gently combs through my hair. "Just let it out. Let it all out."

And I do. From Stefan's attack, to my problems with Mason, to testifying in court and everything in between. All my insecurities, all the control I feel like I've lost. And that's when I realize that my heart is just broken. Totally broken. That it never healed when Damon walked out my door. That I've fooled even myself by building these absurdly thick walls around it.

My cries have calmed to quiet sniffling and the occasional hiccup when Damon lays me down on a bed, shuffles in behind me and pulls my back to his chest. He curls his body around mine as if he's protecting me from the world. For the first time in almost two months, I feel safe. I'm surrounded by him, his body curved around mine, his scent on the pillows beneath my head. It's comforting.

Once I'm all cried out, I feel totally raw. Everything I've hidden and ignored has been laid bare, and it's left me emotionally barren. But I feel like I've faced the worst of it - opening myself up to all the shame and betrayal I've kept locked inside. It all seems a little easier to face now. I'm not sure why or how, but I feel a little lighter. Like I'm no longer shouldering this alone.

"I went to Mason's the night after I freaked out," I say quietly. I know Damon's listening because his arm flexes around my waist and he holds me tighter. "After we talked, I was feeling confident that I could have control over my sexuality again and I was ready to take it back."

I pause because I'm not sure if Damon really wants to hear this. I know how he feels about Mason and maybe I should save him from the intimate details.

"This is about you, Elena. Don't hold back because you're worried about me or my feelings," Damon says softly, reading my mind.

"To say the sex was bad would be putting it kindly," I sigh. "It was horrible. We were both just left frustrated and unsatisfied. And that's when I realized that maybe I was a lot worse off than I originally thought, that maybe taking back the things that Stefan took from me would be a lot harder than I thought. Impossible even. That night was miserable. I felt like I was standing at the bottom of a black hole without even a light to guide me."

"The next morning Mason demanded to know what happened with Stefan, but I didn't want to give him all the details. It was bad enough for me that you knew. And I didn't want his pity, I wanted his help. But then he accused me of still having feelings for you..." I trail off, knowing what is coming next. I'm not sure I'm ready for it to be out in the open. I don't think I could survive his rejection.

His hand rubs soothingly up and down my bare arm as he presses a comforting kiss into my hair. I take my strength from him. I need to heal and I know that I need to let everything out if I want a real chance at that. It hurts and it's hard, but I am strong. I will survive this.

"And I couldn't lie to him," I finish with a whisper. I feel Damon's body stiffen and I wait for him to push me away, to get off the bed and leave me here alone, but then he releases the breath he was holding with a relieved sigh and pulls me closer, nuzzling his face into my hair.

"I felt dirty and embarrassed and used when the story broke about him cheating. How dare he accuse me of harboring feelings for you when he was hooking up with someone else on the side? I never once cheated on him - no matter what I felt for you." My voice is hard and angry.

I get lost in my own thoughts as the silence surrounds us, and Damon is content waiting me out.

"How could he do that to me after everything I went through?" I whisper, my voice breaking.

"He won't get the chance to hurt you again. Him or Stefan," Damon declares. His voice is strong and unwavering next to my ear, and I relax into his body.

Being here with him is the calmest I've felt in what seems like forever. Spilling everything to him was hard, but the freedom I feel now is enough to make me want to weep with joy. Instead of feeling exhausted after that cathartic release, I feel content lying here in Damon's arms, truly awake for the first time in months and enjoying the peace that has settled in the room.

I'm not sure how long we stay like this. It could be hours or even days. I don't know nor do I care because Damon's hand has been constantly smoothing over my skin, running through my hair and every so often, pulling me closer to him. It feels so nice to just be. To not be inside my own head. To not be afraid of a man's touch. It's my own little miracle.

When Damon's voice breaks the silence, it's so soft that I almost don't hear it.

"Elena?"

"Yeah?" I reply, my voice hushed as well. Neither of us wants to break the serenity in this room.

"Will you let me prove that you're not broken?" he asks.

His question confuses me. How in the world would he do that? "How?"

"Let me show you," he responds, his voice still soft, but a little husky as well. It makes my stomach clench in pleasure. It's been so long since I've heard that voice.

His hand doesn't stop its soft caresses, but this time, it slips under the fabric of my tank top. His hand is warm on my skin, and I relax further into him. On each pass over my stomach, his hand gets closer to the fabric of my bra until his fingers start lightly tracing the underside of my breasts. I wait for the panic to set it, for the flashbacks to come, but I feel nothing except his skin on mine. I revel in his touch and how good he is making me feel.

His hand trails downward and his fingers drop below the waistline of my shorts. My heart stops. I wait for the flood of anxiety or for the feeling of nothing that I had with Mason, but instead, my stomach clenches again and my blood lights on fire.

Now his words make complete sense to me.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks in response to the shiver that goes down my spine. "Just say the word and I will. This is about you and only you. You call the shots."

I know it's dramatic, but I almost want to cry. He's giving me a chance to see that I'm not broken with out any performance pressure, without worrying about anyone but myself.

"Do you want to stop?" he asks again, his voice serious and his hand still, continuing its minstrations until I give the okay. Giving me the choice. Giving me all the control.

Do I want to stop? Do I want to risk another catastrophic failure?

But is it possible this might not end catastrophically after all? I trust Damon enough to know that he'll stop if I say so. If I feel nothing, I can say stop. If I get stressed out, I can say stop. This is about me. Maybe this time will be different. How would I know if I don't try?

"No," I whisper. "I don't want you to stop."

His hand slowly starts to smooth over my skin again, gentle and soothing. When his fingers finally unbutton my shorts and lower the zipper, he waits, giving me a moment to check myself and my emotions. I feel nothing but need. My body knows where this is heading and is on board completely. I want to feel good. I want Damon to make me feel good.

"You okay?" he asks, his fingers resting just an inch above where I want them. Where I need them.

"Yes," I say breathlessly. God, I sound needy.

Instead of giving me what I want, Damon slips his hand out of my shorts and I almost groan in protest. But his palm glides down my hip and over my thigh, pulling my leg up and backward to drape over his own, effectively opening me up to his questing fingers. That one move alone ramps up my anticipation and I'm nearly panting with energy. I can't think of anything else but where I need him to touch me.

He doesn't disappoint. His hand dips into my shorts, under my panties, and I moan out loud when his fingers come into contact with my wet folds. I hear him let out a shuddering breath and it only turns me on more. I wonder ever so briefly if I should pull back and make sure this is okay, but the thought vanishes in an instant. I can't think about anything but where his finger is pushing into me and spreading my wetness all over my sex.

I can't think about anything but the pleasure he is wreaking on my body. He's playing me like a finely-tuned 12-string guitar. Knowing just when to ramp up the intensity and when to back off. Knowing how to make me growl in frustration and how to make me moan in pure bliss.

"Damon," I whimper his name, not even caring that I'm begging. "Please."

"I'll take care of you," he whispers as his fingers slowly build up the pressure deep in my belly. I feel the flutters start and I know I'm teetering on that edge, just waiting to fall over into the abyss.

"That's right," he encourages, his voice in my ear. "Just let it all go." And I do.

It's liberating. I'm floating, completely carefree. Totally numb to anything but the pleasure crashing through my body. Damon's fingers don't stop; instead, they help me ride out every wave, prolonging my release until I'm lying on the bed panting and boneless. I slowly come back to earth, and then I realize what just happened.

It happened.

My eyes sting with tears of joy and I can't believe I'm crying over an orgasm. I'm not broken. I'm no longer held prisoner in my own mind.

I'm free.

Damon removes his hand from my shorts, and I roll over in his arms to look up into his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks, surely seeing my watery gaze and assuming the worst.

"Thank you," I whisper, giving him a watery smile.

His answering smile is so small and almost imperceptible, but it means so much. His arms wrap around me and he crushes me against his chest, pressing his lips to my hair. I let out a contented sigh as I snuggle into him. Damon has given me back a part of myself. A part that I thought I'd never get back.

I can feel myself on the cusp of sleep when I hear Damon whisper in my ear. It's so faint that I could just be dreaming it, but something in me knows it's not a dream, that it is very real.

"I love you, Elena."

* * *

**Cue fangirling.**

**I also need to thank Pinterest for giving me some amazing ideas for Damon's ranch house. **

**Next chapter will have more songwriting, I promise. **

**Follow me on Twitter: rachellebelle08**

**I can't wait to read these reviews. I'm so excited! See you next chapter!**


	24. The Lucky One

**Holy. Crap. I had over 80 reviews for just the last chapter alone. EIGHTY. That is a personal all-time record. I can't accurately convey my excitement to you guys. It's so amazing. Thank you so, so much!**

**Thanks to LaylaReyne for her amazing beta abilities. And for helping me fine-tune my outline for the rest of the story. And to Emma, my lovely editor as I call her. For reading anything and everything I send her. You both are amazing.**

**Oh, there is another cameo that I think Mirna and Sandra will enjoy very much...**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"I love you, Elena."

My eyes snap open the instant my heart stops beating. I push myself backward to look up into his face. His eyes are wide with surprise and...fear. He thought I was asleep.

"What did you say?"

He's quiet for a long minute, his eyes searching mine and his body tense.

"I love you," he whispers hesitantly. He looks so vulnerable lying there, but his words spark a panic in me. This whole thing was a dream, wasn't it? I'm going to wake up just as broken as I was yesterday.

Tears slip down my cheeks as I scramble off the bed and away from him and all his intoxicating presence. It's going to be that much harder to wake up and have it all ripped away from me.

"No, you don't," I say shakily as I back into the wall behind me, the sharp pain that shoots up my spine telling me that this is in fact real.

I should be relieved, but I'm only more upset by the realization. Because he's saying the impossible. This can't all be true. I know the moment I accept his love, it'll be ripped from me. If the past two months have taught nothing else, it's that life is a bitch.

"Yes, I do," he says slowly, moving across the bed gracefully and standing only a few feet from me.

It's too good to be true. All of it is. I can't form words, so I only cast my eyes to the floor and shake my head pathetically.

"I do. I love you, but I know I'm too late and that you don't feel the same way. So you don't have to worry about hurting my feelings," he declares sadly. His steps are heavy as he crosses the room, heading toward the door.

The panic nearly overwhelms me again, but this time its for fear that I'm going to let this moment slip through my fingers – this moment I've been waiting for since the morning I woke up to him writing and playing music for the first time in two years.

"How do you know?" I ask when his hand is resting on the doorknob.

"How do I know what?" he questions, but his voice is resigned like he really doesn't want to know the answer.

"That I don't feel the same way," I say softly. As my words register, his back tenses and I'm not even sure if he's breathing.

He slowly turns to face me and there is so much vulnerability in his eyes it almost hurts. "Do you?"

"Yes," I whisper, without hesitation, because I can't lie about this. Not anymore. I can't pretend it's not there and that I don't feel for him.

Damon closes the distance between us slowly, his eyes boring into mine with every step until his body is nearly flush against mine. He searches my face before he lets out a long relieved sigh and cups my cheeks in his hands, resting his forehead against mine. His eyes drift closed like he's trying to soak in the moment. My hands rest lightly on his hips and I let my eyes drift closed as well.

I'm not sure how long we stand there, breathing each other in, but I have no desire whatsoever to move.

It's Damon who finally breaks the silence. "Will you let me take you somewhere after lunch?"

As if in agreement, my stomach growls loudly. I can't help but giggle and look up at Damon, who is smiling too.

"That's definitely a yes for lunch," he says, totally amused.

I laugh a little more before I respond. "It's a yes to both."

* * *

I listen to the sounds of Damon moving around the kitchen as I sit on the couch with a guitar in my lap and my notebook open on the coffee table in front of me. It's all so domestic.

I focus on the music swirling in my head and lose myself in it. This song is just flowing out of me; it's like I can't get it written down fast enough. By the time Damon brings our lunch into the living room, I've nearly finished it. I haven't written a song this fast since before my run in with Stefan. I feel good and this is just one more huge step toward feeling like myself again. Without my music, I am nothing.

"It's sounding good," Damon says as he flops down on the couch cushions next to me. He's made us Italian subs and served them with two Dr. Peppers and a large bag of potato chips. Not so Italian.

"I'll play it for you after I eat," I tell him, setting the guitar on the ground and leaning it against the arm chair next to the couch. "Thank you for lunch, by the way. And for breakfast."

He wiggles his eyebrows at me before replying, "You're welcome."

Silence descends as we dig into our meal. Just like breakfast, the food is amazing. Damon's just as talented in the kitchen as he is in the studio, that's for sure. I down my sub, drink, and half the bag of chips in record time. All those meals I've skipped over the last few weeks are finally catching up to me.

I lay my empty plate on the coffee table and pick the guitar right back up. My song, which is now on paper, continues to play on repeat in my head. I can feel Damon's eyes on me as I play through the opening chords. In the back of my mind I thought I'd be nervous playing a new song in front of Damon after all this time, but it's so natural. This is one of the many levels that we connect on. We can say more about ourselves through song than we could ever put into words.

_"New to town with a made up name in the angel city,_

_Chasing fortune and fame._

_And the camera flashes, make it look like a dream._

_You had it figured out since you were in school._

_Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool._

_So overnight you look like a sixties' queen._

_Another name goes up in lights, like diamonds in the sky._

_And they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one._

_Yeah, they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one._

_But can you tell me now, you're the lucky one, oh, oh, oh..._

_Now it's big black cars, and Riviera views,_

_And your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you_

_And your secrets end up splashed on the news front page._

_And they tell you that you're lucky._

_But you're so confused,_

_Cause you don't feel pretty, you just feel used._

_And all the young things line up to take your place._

_Another name goes up in lights. You wonder if you'll make it out alive._

_And they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one._

_Yeah, they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one._

_Can you tell me now, you're the lucky one, oh, oh, oh."_

I lift my eyes from the guitar, locking them with Damon's. As intimate and personal as this feels, I can't look away. Damon is the person I want to hear this song first. He's been there for me through it all, whether in person or in my mind. Of all people, he knows what these words mean to me.

_"It was a few years later, I showed up here._

_And they still tell the legend of how you disappeared,_

_They took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out._

_They say you bought a bunch of land somewhere,_

_Chose the Rose Garden over Madison Square,_

_And it took some time, but I understand it now._

_'Cause now my name is up in lights, but I think you got it right,_

_Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one._

_Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one._

_Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one, oh, oh, oh."_

My eyes haven't left Damon's, even after the last note fades into the stillness around us.

"What did you think?" I ask in a hushed voice, waiting on edge for his approval.

"I'm totally speechless," he finally admits. A smile lights up his face, making my insides tingle. "It's amazing. I don't know how you do it, but you get better and better with every song."

"Thank you," I say shyly, setting the guitar back down on the ground. "So where are you going to take me?" I ask, trying to get the attention off me because I'm sure my cheeks are turning red.

Damon smiles at me as he stands and gathers the remnants of our meal.

"Go put your boots on while I clean this up and you'll find out," he replies with a mischievous wink.

"Speaking of," I say as I follow him into the kitchen. "How did you, one, get my boots all the way out here and, two, manage to buy me an entire wardrobe in the correct size?"

"Caroline," he admits sheepishly. "I would have just had her buy you new boots, but yours are already broken in."

Of course. Caroline has a spare key to my place in case of emergencies and when she needs to drop by clothes. She had to have known what Damon was planning and she didn't tell me. That sneaky little bitch. But I'm not upset, this is exactly what I needed.

My boots are resting with a pair of Damon's at the back door and I slip them on as Damon comes around the corner to put on his own. He snatches a black cowboy hat off the wall and heads out the back door. I take my time to shamelessly admire his backside as I follow. He's wearing a simple dark grey V-neck tee, jeans that fit him just right, black leather boots and now that cowboy hat. Heaven help me.

On the back porch, he grabs my hand and drags me down the steps and across the grass toward the barn.

The smell of horses and hay invades my nose when we enter, but I get used to it almost immediately. He drops my hand and busies himself, moving from place to place and preparing what he needs. He opens a stall door, fits the horse inside with the bridle and leads out a gorgeous brown and white Paint Horse. She's beautiful.

"This here is Cherokee and she's pretty gentle, but she's been known to be a little firecracker. I think you two'll get along very well," he tells me as he leads the horse my way. He ties up her reins before he enters another stall, harnesses another horse and leads it out. His horse is a dark brown Arabian that he introduces as Chance.

I stand back and watch him work to saddle both horses for us. He's so confident and sure as he expertly moves around the barn. I'm totally enjoying the show, admiring the way his biceps flex under the sleeves of his T-shirt. How his back rolls and tenses when he lifts a saddle up and onto each horse's back. When he's finished, he walks both horses out of the barn and signals me around to the side of my horse.

"Ready?" he asks and when I nod, he continues. "Put your right foot into the stirrup - good, just like that. Now put your hand right here. And on three you'll pull yourself up and swing your leg over the saddle. Ready?"

On Damon's count, I lift myself up while Damon places a hand on my ass to help boost me. I give him a suspicious look once I'm settled in the saddle. Damon only smirks and walks over to his own horse. He lifts himself into the saddle so gracefully. He's totally in his element here.

"Ready?" His voice is as excited as he looks.

I give him an enthusiastic nod.

"Okay, now to make her go, you just kick in your heels to her sides, not hard, just enough for her to feel it. To make her stop, pull back on the reins. Now to go left, just move them left. To move right, move them over to the right," he says as he demonstrates each instruction he gives me. I just smile and nod.

Damon leads us out the other side of the barn and all I see are sprawling green pastures, hills and trees. This place really is like a whole other world. God, I didn't even know that this was what I needed until he brought me here.

Our horses walk slowly out the open gate of the pasture and I feel the overwhelming urge to let this horse gallop as fast as she wants and take me wherever she wants to go. To just be free out here in the wide open where there are no cameras, no gossip blogs, only grass, the blue sky and Damon.

Reading my mind, Damon slows his horse so he's right next to me. "You want to see how fast these girls can go?"

I smile brightly at him. I can't wait.

"Okay, so first we're going to ease them into a trot," he starts to instruct me, but I have other plans. With a peal of squealing laughter, my horse and I take off across the grass, leaving Damon behind in the dust.

Little does he know that I had riding lessons all the way into my teens. I laugh freely again. The wind in my hair and the powerful feeling of being back on a horse, of feeling in control, is exhilarating.

I know Damon is catching up with me when I hear another set of hooves pounding the ground behind me. I know there's a specific place he wants to take me, but I don't want to give him the lead just yet.

Damon doesn't try to take the lead, instead using his horse to herd me in the correct direction. I love that he doesn't try to one up me, that he just lets me enjoy this moment. This freedom.

I slow Cherokee to a canter, and Damon comes up on my side.

"I see you know how to ride." His voice is sarcastic, but his smile is playful.

"You bet your ass I do," I say with a wink. The look on his face makes me throw my head back and laugh.

"I like seeing you like this," he says, his voice is sweet and he's smiling.

"Like what?"

"Fearless," he answers. "Come on, it's just a bit further."

Damon leads us down a trail through the trees. I let my horse do all the following, because I'm distracted by how beautiful and peaceful this place is. I lose track of time until Damon's voice grabs my attention.

"Here we are," he announces right as we burst through the trees.

I take everything in - the meadow and the green grass, the creek running through it and the blue cloud-dotted sky.

"It's beautiful," I gasp.

"It's my favorite place on this property," he explains as he dismounts his horse and distracts me with his perfect ass in those jeans.

He gives me a knowing smile as he walks our horses to a tree with a couple low hanging branches and ties the reins in loose knots around each branch.

I dismount before he has a chance to come help me, giving him a cheeky smirk as I take to exploring the meadow. The air is perfect, but the water is still cold from the winter. I hear Damon moving around behind me and I turn to find him laying out a large blanket on the grass. He watches me as he sits down and pats the open space next to him. I slip my boots off and collapse onto the blanket next to him.

We sit in silence, enjoying the soft sound of the running creek and the freedom of not being stalked by men with cameras. Here there are no worries. There is no stress, no competition, no tabloids or gossip blogs. Here I'm just Elena from Mystic Falls. Here I don't have to pretend to be strong. Here I can feel and act without the whole world having an opinion about it.

I reflect on what happened in the bedroom earlier. It's still a hard pill to swallow, hard to process. It still seems impossible. I still hear Damon in my apartment when I confessed that I was in love with him.

Well that makes you a fucking idiot.

Yeah, that still stings and in the wake of all that's happened, I find it difficult to believe that he means it now. That he's changed enough to admit that he loves me. I don't think he really does. And as much as it hurts to think that, I can't find it in me to convince myself that he meant it.

"I can practically hear your brain working into overdrive," Damon says quietly. It's unnerving how well he can read me. Even after all this time apart.

"What's changed?" I ask, finally looking over at him.

His brow furrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What changed between the night you walked out my apartment door, or that night in my dressing room, to now?" I elaborate. I watch my words sink in as I'm sure he's reliving those two poignant moments.

He lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair, but says nothing. He's silent for so long that I'm pretty sure he's not going to answer the question.

"You rejected me after I used the one thing I thought would convince you give into me - seduction. But you resisted and that's when I realized that I couldn't be what you needed me to be, not the way I was. Something had to change," he explains quietly, staring off at the water. "And as I watched you struggle with what Stefan did to you, I realized that I was doing the exact same thing. I buried the pain because I didn't want to face what had been done to me."

"Stefan told me," I whisper.

"And?" he prompts.

"And I think his version of events differs from what actually happened," I say carefully.

Damon takes a deep breath before he speaks again. "Stefan has always resented me for taking away the people that love him, but he doesn't understand that he took away the first person who ever loved me. My mother died giving birth to him. I was only six, but I can still remember her to this day." A sad smile pulls at his lips and I fight the urge to wrap my arms around him because I'm afraid he'll shut me out again.

"After my mom passed, my dad resented me and shut me out. I'm the spitting image of my mother and I think that's why he couldn't look at me, but as a six year old I was aching for the love of my father after losing my mother. I started acting out because he was giving all of his attention to Stefan. I was crying out for just a little bit of attention, even if it was to get punished."

The image he paints breaks my heart in two. I can picture him as a small child, wondering why his father wouldn't love him. Feeling so alone. The thought brings the sting of tears to my eyes, but I blink them back.

"When I discovered music, I discovered my escape. I was able to spend time at school practicing rather than at home living in Stefan's shadow. When I was old enough, I got a job at the local music store. From then on I was determined to make it big. And I did. For the first time in my life, I had more than enough people who loved me. Millions of people."

Damon pauses and I wonder if that's all he's going to tell me.

Instead he continues, "I met Katherine after I won my first Grammy. She was everything about the business that I loved. She was that whole lifestyle personified and I was smitten immediately. Our relationship was very public and looking back, that should've been my first clue. Kat wanted to be an actress and I was her easy way in, but everything changed when she got pregnant."

I stiffen immediately. This part of the story I know and it's only going to be worse hearing it from Damon himself. But I know he needs this and no matter how much it hurts, I'm going to listen.

"I wanted to do the right thing and be a better man than my father was to me, so I proposed and convinced her that buying a home together was a good idea," he continues, still staring out at the water, in his own world. He takes another deep breath, as if preparing himself for what he's going to say next. "When she lost the baby, I was devastated. I was so excited about the baby, imagining this life for us - the life I never had. The family I never had. But in only a few minutes, it was ripped from me. Stefan was already at the hospital when I arrived and that should've been my second clue, but I was too concerned about the baby and about Kat that I didn't take notice."

His voice sounds a little shaky from reliving such a horrific event and I can't not touch him any longer. I slide my palm across the blanket and intertwine my fingers with his. He looks down at our joined hands and then at me. We stare at each other for several long minutes, taking strength from each other, from the awful things we've each been through. I give his hand a squeeze and he turns to look out at the water again.

"She blamed me for the miscarriage. She said it was my fault for pushing her into a situation that she wasn't ready for. She said I put too much stress on her and the baby. My heart broke that night in the hospital. Deep down I knew it wasn't my fault, but what she was saying made sense. It made total sense to me at the time," he says, shaking his head. "That was the first night I ever self medicated with alcohol. I just needed to get away, to escape for just one second. Just one."

It's a feeling that I now understand. The need for a time-out, for a break from the world.

"The next day the story broke about Kat's miscarriage. I tried to be there for her, to protect her from the pictures and the paparazzi, but she wanted nothing to do with me. That's when Stefan showed up to take her 'home' and it all clicked. I asked them what was going on and she told be that it would always be Stefan for her. He was always the one and it was his baby that I killed. I punched him. Hard. Of course it was all caught on camera and the press went wild with the story," he spits bitterly.

"I went home and took some prescription pain pills with a bottle of bourbon. Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital and the nurses were claiming that I'd attempted to kill myself. Ric was the one who found me and he forced me into rehab. I had the shit scared out of me waking up in that sterile room and learning how close to dying I had been." That part of the story comes as a shock to me. I never realized that Damon nearly died. Despite the fact that it was long before he met me, it still makes my stomach drop in terror. Unconsciously, I scoot across the blanket until we are shoulder to shoulder and my arm is looped under his, our hands still tangled together.

"My mother told me she loved me and then she died. Katherine told me she loved me and then cheated on me in the worst way. So that day in your apartment when you told me you loved me, that was all I could think of and I panicked. The moment the door closed, I knew I had fucked up, but I was too messed up to know how to fix it. In my mind, it was better that you hate me than love me and then go running when I didn't turn out to be the person you expected."

My mind is totally blank. Processing all of this has just shut it down. I can't even form words. All I know is that I feel closer to Damon now than I ever have. We are both broken in our own ways. Both trying to heal. We need each other.

"I'm so sorry for what I said that day," Damon says, turning his body so he's facing me. "And for all the times that I sought you out, not letting you move on from me because I was too selfish to let you go, but too afraid to let you get close."

"It's okay," I whisper, once again blinking back tears.

"No it's not," he says with a bittersweet smile. "But when I got that photo from Stefan, I lost it. God, Elena, I didn't know what he was going to do to you. All that was running through my mind was that I couldn't lose you. I can't live without you and it shouldn't have taken something like that to make me realize it."

My heart lodges itself in my throat. His words hit me hard and they are so lovely that it almost hurts. This is a slippery slope to climb and I have to ask myself if I want to weather the storm that Damon is again.

But then the song Damon wrote for me comes unbidden to my mind. And the comforting way he held me after my attack. How selfless he was dropping me off with Mason when I know all he wanted to do was hold me in his arms to reassure himself that I was safe. How encouraging he was after my freak out with Mason. And just this morning, the way he let me take my anger out on him, how he listened to me, how selflessly he proved that I wasn't broken. He asked for nothing in return.

There is no doubt in my mind that I still love him. Even after all this time, after all we've been through. I tried to ignore it. To pretend I felt nothing for the beautiful and tormented man with the ice blue eyes.

I want to tell him how I feel. To put all these emotions into words.

"Damon," I start to say, my voice thick with emotion. But a deafening clap of thunder cuts me off before I can say any more. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or frustrated.

"We should head back before the rain moves in."

I glance up at the sky almost expecting the bright cloudless blue from earlier, but sure enough, there are ominous dark clouds moving in. Of course the rain is coming in. We leap off the blanket at the same time, with me shoving my feet into my boots and Damon snatching up the blanket as fast as possible. Our moment has been totally shattered. Of course the universe would interrupt when I finally have the courage to tell him how I feel.

We both mount our horses and head down the trail we came in on. Damon glances back at me with a sly smile before he coaxes his horse into a trot and then a full gallop. That smug bastard! Despite my snarky thoughts, there is a ridiculous smile on my face as I let my horse chase after them like I know she wants to.

A few drops of rain hit my face and I know it's only a matter of minutes until the heavens open.

Okay, maybe seconds.

The barn is in sight when the downpour begins. The rain only makes me laugh harder as we race across the field and take shelter in the barn. We are soaking wet and both breathing heavily when we dismount from our horses. I stand back and watch Damon lift off the saddles, coax the horses into their stalls and remove their harnesses. His shirt is soaked all the way through and is now clinging to the muscles of his chest and back. I double-check that I'm not drooling.

"C'mon, let's head inside," he says to me, gesturing toward the house with his head.

"Wait," I call breathlessly. I need to say this. I need to say it now before I lose my courage.

Damon turns and we stare at each other for several moments. My hands are shaking, my chest is heaving and I can feel that invisible tether between us go taut. The rain rages on outside the open doors on either side of the barn, but I feel a calm settle in my heart.

Damon stares at me expectantly and I take a deep breath, readying myself to tell him how I feel. To repeat my words to him from so many months ago and pray that things will be different this time.

He loves you. Of course things will be different.

The thought puts a small smile on my face and I hold onto my courage.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**I had so much more to put in this chapter but by the time I got to Elena's ILY, I was pushing 5000 words. So the outcome of her confession will be next chapter along with some more song writing and more of the ranch. Well... the ranch house. ;)**

**Follow me on Twitter: rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love. **


	25. Treacherous

**Hello again! Thank you all so much for your support. This story has been so fun to write so far. And each of your reviews have just made it that much more special.**

**Thank you to Layla Reyne for her amazing beta-reading work. She really is phenomenal. **

**And thanks to Emma for reading through these smut scenes over and over and over again. She really is awesome.**

**There isn't too much left in this story, we're getting close to the end. I'd say about 5 chapters, give or take one or two. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Damon stares at me with wide eyes. I doubt he was expecting those words to come out of my mouth. And of all places, in a barn in the middle of a torrential downpour.

The beat of my pounding heart drowns out any other sound as I watch him walk toward me like a predator stalking its prey. The closer he gets, the faster his steps become until he is so close he nearly knocks me over. His hand shoots out and wraps around the back of my neck and pulls my lips to his in a searing kiss. I can't get enough of him, get close enough to him, feel enough of him. His other hand wraps around my waist, pressing my pelvis to his, letting me feel just how much he wants me too.

My fingers tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off in my haste and my nails scrape across his scalp, pulling a groan from deep in his throat, and it makes everything inside me clench in pure female satisfaction. He fists his hand in my hair, holding me in place, and I revel in the fact that I'm letting him take control. I love it.

We are all push and pull. Battling against each other and for each other all at the same time. We are clawing at each other with a sort of animalistic need, like we won't be close enough until we are one. Until we are under each other's skin.

Damon's hands slide down the backs of my thighs and lift me to him, not breaking our kiss once. I immediately wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders. He starts to walk and soon, the rain is soaking us all over again. Not that I care. My lips are too busy tasting every inch of skin within reach. His neck, his chest, the hollow of his throat. My hands fist into his shirt, holding onto him as if he's trying to get away.

Damon shifts my weight a bit and I hear the sound of a door opening, then soon after, the sound of it closing. My back comes in contact with a wall and I unwrap my legs from around Damon's waist. His arousal rocks right into my core as my feet touch the floor. My teeth sink into his bottom lip as pleasure rockets through me. When Damon tears his lips from mine, he's breathing just as heavily as I am.

"Say it again," he commands breathlessly. His feet may be idle, but his hands aren't. He slides them over my shirt, cupping my breasts in his hands.

"I love you," I tell him without hesitation, the lust in my body making my voice needy.

"I love you, too," he replies huskily and then his lips are on mine again. There is something so desperate about his kiss that ignites my blood.

His hands fist the hem of my tank top and he wastes no time pulling it off me, nearly ripping it in two in his haste to get to bare skin. His appreciative gaze is addicting. His lips capture mine again and the passion between us could surely set this house on fire. Before I know it, my bra is somewhere across the room and I don't miss it one bit.

"Make me yours, Damon," I moan while his lips blaze a path across my jaw to my ear.

He growls possessively and it thrills me.

"Mine," he whispers. His voice sounds strangled, like he's holding onto his control by a thread. I want to drive him crazy. I want him to feel as out of control for me as I feel for him.

I push his shirt up his chest, letting my hands glide over his damp skin. He quickly loses his patience and bends his arms to pull it off by the back of the neck and tosses it God knows where. My eyes rake over the newly exposed expanse of skin. My memories did not do him justice.

"Mine," I practically purr as I scrape my fingernails down his chest. A shudder runs through his body and his breath catches as he falls forward against the wall, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of my head. His breath is warm on my skin and goosebumps erupt when he drags his lips up my neck to suckle the spot right behind my ear.

"Oh God," I whimper as my trembling fingers pop open the button on his jeans and lower the zipper. The sound of it echoes in my ears and only makes me want him more. I slide my hand into his pants - no underwear, I shouldn't be surprised - push them down over his hips and wrap my hand around him. He's hot and heavy as I stroke his rigid flesh. Damon doesn't let that continue long. Next thing I know, he pins my wrists to the wall on either side of my head.

"I can't wait any longer." His voice is strained and desperate.

He leans in close, so close that my bare breasts graze his chest with every one of my panting breaths. Both of our lips are parted and for a while we just stand there, staring into the other's eyes and breathing each other in. I can't stand fighting the gravity any longer, now that I finally have Damon back. I close the scant distance between our lips and Damon responds immediately. That raging need is like a lit match to gasoline.

He drops to his knees in front of me as he pulls off my boots and socks, letting them fall unceremoniously to the ground. He wastes no time in going for the button and zipper of my shorts. I hold onto his shoulders as he pulls my shorts and panties down my legs, lifting one foot then the other so he can slip them off. I close my eyes at the erotic picture of Damon kneeling before me. It's all too much. It's adding to my furious need for him to be inside me.

His hands trail up the backs of my legs as he rises to his feet, lifting my thighs and letting me lock my ankles behind his back while he positions himself. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me flush against his chest and in one graceful push, he's inside me.

I cry out in bliss. This is what I've been missing for almost ten months. I dig my nails into his shoulders to hold on while he sets a punishing rhythm. I love seeing him so undone. I love that it's me who has made him like this. His grunts fill the room as he drives into me over and over again. I can feel the tension building so quickly that it shocks me, but it's been so long since I've had him and never have I had all of him. Not like this.

"God, Elena. I'm not going to last much longer," he growls in my ear, his movements becoming more uneven as he chases his release. His hands drop to my ass and his fingers sink into my flesh.

I'm right there with him, tilting my hips to find that perfect friction. He plunges into me over and over again until mercilessly, I'm thrown over the edge. I cry out his name as my body squeezes him and I can feel him pulse deep within me. I open my eyes to see his head thrown back and his mouth slack as he comes. I've never seen anything more gorgeous and it only makes my body milk him more. Taking everything he has to give. And I want it. I want it all. Every last piece of him. All of the bad and all of the good. I don't care as long as he is mine.

He drops his head to the crook of my neck as we both float down from our simultaneous release. He slowly pulls out of me and I miss him the moment he's gone. My legs flop toward the ground and if it wasn't for his arms around me, I would no longer be upright. Everything in me feels like Jell-O.

Damon's head slowly comes up and his blue eyes are bright and so full of love. He presses several soft kisses to my lips with such tenderness that I feel like I'm going to soon be a puddle at his feet.

"I love you," he whispers like he can't possibly say it enough. Like he's making up for all those months we spent apart.

"I love you, too," I reply with a small smile. I'm sated and happy and in the arms of the man I love.

He bends down and sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.

"C'mon, I want to take you to my bed and do this properly," he says as he kisses my cheek and starts to move across the living room toward the stairs.

My arms remain around his neck and I take to kissing every inch of bare flesh I can get my lips on. By the time he turns down the covers and lays me in his bed, I feel my need for him rising again. I can't get enough. Not tonight. And probably not ever.

As Damon toes off his boots and nearly rips off his socks, I sit up and finish what I started with his jeans. I run my hands over his stomach and dip them into his jeans to smooth over his ass. I let my hands trail down the back of his thighs, taking his jeans with them. He shucks them the rest of the way off and I sit back to shamelessly admire him. Again, my memory did not do him justice. My gaze rakes over his strong shoulders, the corded muscles of his chest and abs, and finally, his impressive length that is already starting to harden again.

I look up to find those blue eyes gazing down at me. He dips his head and kisses me slowly, pouring all of his love into his kiss. It's intoxicating. He kneels between my legs as he lays me down on the mattress. His lips blaze a path across my jaw and down my neck. I turn my head to give him better access and surrender myself to his mouth on my skin. He nips and sucks his way across my collarbone and down my chest. Air hisses through my teeth when he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, cupping and kneading the other with his strong hand. He's reduced me to needy whimpers and maybe if I wasn't so in love with him, I'd be embarrassed or ashamed even, but this is Damon. I can't hold anything back from him. He moves his mouth to my other breast until my body is bowing off the bed.

I open my eyes to see his mass of black hair and feel his lips moving down my stomach. He settles himself between my thighs and looks up at me as his tongue darts out and takes one long swipe over my tender flesh.

"Oh, God," I cry as the pleasure rockets through me. I screw my eyes shut while his mouth does the most wonderful things to me. He flicks his tongue, sucks, and even bites, driving me mad. I'm thrashing on the bed, my fingers fisted in his hair as I try and find my release, but it remains evasive because Damon knows just when to bear down on me and when to back off.

When he has me teetering on the edge of oblivion again, he pulls away completely. I actually growl at him. His only response is a throaty chuckle before covering my body with his. His erection is hot against my thigh. Oh, God. I need him now.

"Damon," I whisper. He pulls back to look me in the eyes. "I need you. All of you."

He lets out a shaky breath and positions himself. When he rocks forward, I hold my breath, waiting for that moment when he completes me. But instead, he lets himself slide across my slippery skin. Again. And again. I groan in frustration and flex my fingers into his back, digging my nails in. The tension is so pent up that I'm about to explode.

"Damon," I whimper into his shoulder. I can't take it anymore. I need him. He has me aching for only him.

"I've got you, baby," he replies right before he rolls us over, settling me on top of him.

I waste no time taking him in my hand and giving us both exactly what we want. What we need. I lower myself slowly, letting myself adjust and by the time he's fully seated inside me, we are both gasping for air.

"God, you're perfect," he groans from deep in his throat. I run my hands over his chest before I tangle my fingers in his, holding them next to his head on the mattress. I lean down and kiss him softly and then I start to move. Everything about this moment is perfect. My eyes never once leave Damon's. Our parted lips brush with every roll of my hips and we just breathe each other in. With every push and every pull, I feel myself build higher and higher.

I sit up, arching my back and crying out in pleasure and pure joy. Damon follows me, sitting up, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his lips to mine. The change in position is heady and I moan into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slip his warm tongue past my teeth. I hold onto his shoulders, practically clawing at his flesh with my nails as he thrusts up into me. My breath catches with every thrust, and my only focus is the feeling building inside me. Being here with the man I love, being so close to him, finally having every piece of him. The thought almost brings tears to my eyes. I never thought the day would come when all of our walls would come down and there would be nothing between us - physically or emotionally.

"I'm so close," I whisper breathlessly. I can feel my release building and I don't fear that I'll lose it, that the anxiety will ruin all of this. There is no fear, no worries, only Damon and me in this moment.

Damon's hands grip my hips and he rolls me underneath him without breaking our precious contact. He braces his elbows on either side of my head and I wrap my legs around his waist as he starts to thrust again. His hips move like pistons, back and forth, over and over again. They become more erratic as his own release nears. One of his hands slides down my body,his fingers caress that bundle of nerves again and again in perfect time with his thrusts.

His hair is sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his eyes are screwed shut, and his mouth is parted. I love watching him like this, so different from his usual indifferent facade. I do this to him. With this image, my orgasm washes over me, the pleasure so intense that it's almost painful. I can feel my inner walls milking him, tempting his own climax. He rams into me one last time before he growls my name with his head thrown back. I feel his release inside me, filling me, giving me a physical piece of himself.

He lets out a shaky breath before he collapses on top of me. I love the feel of his weight pressing me into his mattress and I wrap myself around him, refusing to let him roll off of me. Not yet. It takes several minutes, but our breathing finally evens out and Damon pushes himself up onto his elbows to look down at me. His fingers brush my hair off my face and then he cups my cheek in his warm palm, running his thumb over my bottom lip. Meanwhile, my fingers dance up and down his sweat slicked back.

"I love you," he declares. His adoring gaze makes my heart clench with sheer joy.

"I love you, too," I reply without hesitation.

He smiles shyly before giving me a chaste kiss and rolling off of me. I want to whine that I still wanted to cuddle, but my complaints are silenced when he tugs down the covers, settles me between the sheets and pulls me to him. He lies on his side and I snuggle up to his chest, wrapping one arm around his waist as he throws one of his legs over mine. We are totally intertwined and for the first time in months, I sleep soundly.

* * *

I wake up aching. Right between my legs. I shouldn't be surprised really since I was dreaming about Damon and our night together. I sigh in contentment, but it turns to a moan as a jolt of lust runs down my spine. I can still feel his fingers between my legs, his warm breath on the back of my neck and his erection digging into my ass. I moan again. Damn, my mind conjured up a realistic Damon. I'm dying for release. I arch my back and Damon's teeth graze my ear, sending a shudder through me.

My hips move on their own accord, desperate for more friction, more anything. I'm so close. Damon's fingers dip into my core and his thumb swipes over that bundle of nerves and just like that I'm gone.

It's just enough to wake me up, my body still pulsing with pleasure. It's only when I'm coming down from my high that I realize none of it was a dream. Damon's fingers are still gently moving in and out of me, prolonging the sensations running through me.

"Damon," I sigh, totally sated. I open my eyes to the early morning light filling the room. Damon's bedroom here is gorgeous. The heavy wood furnishings contrast with the simple white paneled walls and the white bedding. I could stay here forever.

He lets out a throaty chuckle as his lips brush the back of my neck. "Mmm," he purrs in my ear, giving me goosebumps. "Good morning."

Yeah, I could wake up like this everyday. I wiggle my ass against his morning wood and his chuckle turns into a strained gasp. He presses his chest against my back, rolling me over onto my stomach while his hand pushes my knee up, opening me up for him. I turn my head to the side as his weight pushes me down into the mattress. He positions himself, intertwines our fingers, and sinks into me. My breath hisses through my teeth. God, he feels good. He moves lazily, pushing in and pulling out in an even, deep, intoxicating rhythm. He untangles our hands to prop himself up on one elbow and trail the other down my spine, followed by his lips.

Where last night was all about our passion and making up for lost time, this morning is about savoring every movement, every sensation. We aren't racing toward a release or trying to get under the other's skin, because we already have. I just revel in the peace that's settled between us after we emotionally stripped ourselves bare.

I close my eyes and get lost in the feeling of Damon. I focus on the sound of his heavy breathing, the way his breath warms my skin, how his chest feels against my back, and mostly, I lose myself in just how perfectly we fit together. Sure enough, before long, I feel the pressure building deep in my belly. I can tell Damon is right there with me because his strokes are no longer even as he loses control. Every time he sinks into me, my clit rubs against the mattress, creating the most magical friction. The pressure inside me builds to a smoldering fire. I give myself over to it and with every push and pull of Damon inside me, I near my climax.

We catapult over the edge at the same time, both crying out the other's name in ecstasy. We are both totally spent when we finally collapse back onto the bed. I can't help the sated giggle that bubbles out of my lips. Damon joins in immediately, his body shaking against my back.

He flops onto the bed next to me and I roll to face him, propping my head up with my elbow. Damon mirrors my pose as our laughter fades. I run my fingers through his hair and lean in to softly press my lips against his.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," he says cautiously.

"What happened to your house?" I ask quietly, toying absentmindedly with his free hand.

I feel him tense and find myself praying that he won't close up on me, that all the progress we've made won't just disappear as if it never happened. I hold my breath waiting for how he's going to react.

He sighs heavily and his eyes drift shut like he's in pain. "I didn't mean to burn it down."

I stifle a gasp. I wasn't expecting that.

"It's not what you think. Katherine," he pauses, opening his eyes. They are full of conflict and so much pain. "She just has a way of pushing my buttons. She knows just what to say to set me off."

I close the distance between our bodies so I can wrap my arms around him and press my face into his chest, hoping he will take his strength from me.

"I don't know how I ended up at the house I bought for us when she was pregnant, but I just went with it. I started a fire in the fireplace and found a bottle of bourbon to numb myself for just a little bit. I passed out and when I woke, half of the living room was up in flames. I called the fire department and got the hell out. I drove around aimlessly until I found myself at your place." I cringe at the reminder that he'd been driving drunk. In response, his arms flex around me, holding me to him. "I think deep down, I wanted to feel loved. I wanted something stronger to numb the pain. It wasn't until I woke up in the morning that I realized how stupid I'd been. I fell back into the old habits I swore off long ago. I was so angry with myself for being someone who didn't deserve you."

I pull back slightly, cupping his cheek in my hand and looking up into his tormented eyes. "You're a good man, Damon. Never forget that."

Instead of replying with words, he rains kisses all over my face. I giggle and snuggle closer to him, reveling in his protective embrace.

An hour later, I find myself wearing nothing but one of Damon's button up shirts, sitting amongst the sheets we rumpled and strumming a guitar. This is my heaven. I've got a rough draft of the song I'm working on complete when Damon comes through the door wearing nothing but a pair of low slung drawstring pajama pants and carrying a tray piled high with all sorts of breakfast foods.

I smile up at him as he crosses the room, sets the tray on the bed and climbs up onto the mattress with me.

"What are you working on now?" he asks, biting into a piece of bacon.

"Something new," I reply, snatching the remaining bacon from his hand and tossing it in my mouth. When he glares at me, I give him a cheeky smirk.

"Another new song?" he asks, impressed. "Let's hear it."

I strum the opening chords as he lies on his side, propping his head up with his elbow, giving me his full attention.

_"Put your lips close to mine_

_As long as they don't touch_

_Out of focus, eye to eye_

_Till the gravity's too much_

_And I'll do anything you say_

_If you say it with your hands_

_And I'd be smart to walk away, but you're quicksand_

_This slope is treacherous_

_This path is reckless_

_This slope is treacherous_

_And I, I, I like it_

_I can't decide if it's a choice_

_Getting swept away_

_I hear the sound of my own voice_

_Asking you to stay_

_And all we are is skin and bone trained to get along_

_Forever going with the flow, but you're friction_

_This slope is treacherous_

_This path is reckless_

_This slope is treacherous_

_And I, I, I like it_

_Two headlights shine through the sleepless night_

_And I will get you, get you alone_

_Your name has echoed through my mind_

_And I just think you should, think you should know_

_That nothing safe is worth the drive and I will_

_Follow you, follow you home..._

_I'll follow you, follow you home..._

_This hope is treacherous_

_This daydream is dangerous_

_This hope is treacherous_

_I, I, I... I, I, I... I, I, I..._

_This slope is treacherous_

_I, I, I like it"_

His eyes are closed as he takes in what he's just heard. When he finally opens his eyes, there is a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

"Did you write a song about us having sex?" he asks, feigning shock.

"Damon!" I cry, my eyes wide at his audacity. "That's all you got from that?"

I playfully slap him on the arm, and he responds by sliding up next to me, placing the guitar on the floor and capturing my lips with his. I melt right then and there. He pulls away all too soon and settles back on his side of the bed. I sit up and snatch another slice of bacon from the tray at the foot of the bed.

We eat in comfortable silence until the tray is completely empty. I flop onto my back, my stomach so full it's almost bursting at the seams. But Damon makes such amazing breakfast foods that I couldn't stop myself. I sigh in sweet satisfaction and I'm rewarded with Damon's soft chuckle. I love hearing him laugh.

I snuggle into the pillows, closing my eyes and enjoying the freedom to just do nothing. It's amazing and something I'll never take for granted again.

"I have something to show you," Damon says softly after several quiet minutes. "But I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it."

That gets my attention. My eyes flip open and I study his face carefully, but he gives nothing away.

"What did you do?" I ask warily when he rolls over and rummages through the drawer on his nightstand.

When he sits up against the headboard, he's clutching a sheet of paper in his hands. I sit up too, watching him cautiously.

"When I carried you in from the car the other night, your notebook fell out of your bag," he says slowly, his eyes on the paper. "It fell open to a song you wrote a while back, but didn't finish."

He hands me the piece of loose leaf and my eyes scan it quickly.

"You finished my song?" I ask, eyeing him and not quite sure how to react to this.

He only nods in answer. His face is still unreadable.

"That's a gross invasion of privacy, you know," I tell him, watching for any flash of emotion in his eyes.

"Yeah, I do," he says, sounding a bit contrite.

I don't reply for a few tense minutes, letting him sweat it out a bit.

I try to hide my amused smile when I finally reply. "And I'll be pissed if these lyrics aren't perfect."

He tries to conceal his relief, giving me a mock glare.

I study the lyrics scrawled on the page carefully, reading through them several times and keeping in mind the melody that would go with them. I can feel my eyes stinging with tears because he really nailed it. The emotion, the feeling, everything. The only way he'd be able to do this is if he went through the same thing.

When I finally look up at him, I'm desperately trying to keep my emotions in check. "These are amazing, Damon."

He opens his mouth to reply, but the shrill ring of my cellphone interrupts him. Why my cellphone is in his bedroom, I don't know. Probably because he doesn't want me in contact with anything that has to do with work. I snatch it off the dresser when I see it's my mom calling.

"Hi, Mom," I greet her.

_"Did you know that when you testify in court, your testimony is on public record?"_

Shit.

"Mom," I start, but her angry voice cuts me off.

_"You told us you were fine, Elena. You said that he didn't touch you. How could you keep that from us?"_ Her voice breaks at the end and I can hear her holding back tears.

Guilt washes through me when I reflect back on her phone calls since the attack. How I brushed it off as no big deal because I didn't want to be babied. Because I didn't want to admit that anything was wrong.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. I hate being the reason my mom sounds so hurt. I can feel Damon's presence behind me and his fingertip trails softly down my arm before his hand covers my free one. I squeeze his fingers, thanking him silently for just being here. For doing nothing but standing still during this conversation.

_"I can't believe it was that bad,"_ she replies softly. I blink back tears, turning so I can stare up into Damon's face.

While my eyes are still connected with Damon's, I offer her the comfort I know she needs, squeezing Damon's hand again so he knows it's because of him that I can say this. "I'm going to be fine, Mom. I promise."

* * *

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**The song is Treacherous by Taylor Swift. Gotta love her new album!**

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	26. Real Good Man

**Hello again, my friends. Yes, I am aware of how long this took to write. Yes, I know I've made you all wait. But I'm a slave to my muse and I won't ever put out something that doesn't feel right in any way. The first, second, third and fourth drafts of this chapter didn't feel right, so they got erased or tweaked and finally, this chapter came to be.**

**I need to give the biggest thank you of my life to Layla Reyne for her beta work. I was constantly sending her drafts and pieces and scenes of this story. She was amazing for brainstorming and adding so much more to this final chapter. Seriously, she's so awesome.**

**Another thank you to all of you at the ElenaDamon forums who helped when I needed some ideas. (Although the original idea got scrapped in the second draft. Oops!) So thank you to Sandra, Josh, Silvia, and Kat for your ideas and your help!**

**And thank YOU for the reviews, they mean the world.**

* * *

"I wish we could have stayed longer," I say wistfully, as our private car drives us from the Las Vegas airport to our hotel.

We've been away from reality for the past two weeks. Away from the paparazzi and their cameras. Away from the rumor mill. Away from the fallout of Stefan's trial. I don't want to face all of that again. Not yet.

But alas, Damon is dragging me back, kicking and screaming, because he says that even though I faced my demons, I can't stay hidden away forever. Plus, our studio so kindly reminded us that I am scheduled to perform at the ACM Awards here in Vegas - with Mason. I had agreed to the appearance right after the Stefan debacle happened, when I was willing to do anything to shift the focus off the attack.

Now I am kicking myself. I want to back out, save myself from this incredibly awkward situation, but I'm stronger than that. I need to show the world that Mason may have hurt me, but I am not going to take it lying down. I am the bigger person. And with Damon by my side, I'm able to do anything.

"Hey," he says seriously, reaching across the seat to place his hand on my leg, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You're strong. Stronger than anyone in this business. I believe in you."

His supportive words never fail to awaken the butterflies in my stomach.

Our car pulls up the curved driveway of the Bellagio Hotel. The dancing fountains are gorgeous, and I don't take my eyes off them until they are out of my sight. I've never been to Las Vegas before, but I'm just not currently in the right mindset to fully enjoy it. All I really want to do is fly back to Tennessee and spend more time at Damon's ranch house.

The car comes to a stop and both back doors are opened. I slide on my sunglasses and prepare myself for what has now become my life. Surprisingly, there aren't any paparazzi standing around outside the hotel entrance. My hopes rise for just a moment until I remember that it's only a matter of time until people find out which hotel we're staying in.

I follow close behind Damon as he leads us through the expansive entrance. I let my eyes roam the gorgeous entryway, complete with a glass rooftop. The inside of the hotel is even more remarkable. There is an entire section of the ceiling covered in colorful blown glass sculptures. The lobby is bustling with people and noise. I can hear the sounds from the casino beyond the main lobby, and I can see a giant indoor garden off to the other side. I have to admit, this is incredibly impressive.

Damon twines his fingers with mine, tugging me along behind him into a much smaller and quieter lobby, but by no means is it any less grand. It is still wall-to-wall marble and elegance. I stare out the doorway as Damon talks in a low voice with the attendant behind the reception desk. I watch as people stroll by, eyes wide, holding the hands of their loved ones as they take in the grandeur of this hotel. I used to be one of those people, faceless, no one of consequence, and the hardest part of being back in this life is that, for those two weeks at Damon's ranch, I got a taste of just being young and in love without the world having something to say about it. And it was glorious.

But this is what I wanted, I remind myself; this is the life, the career, I chose to pursue. No more self pity shit. And as if a gift from the universe, through the crowd, hand in hand, came Alaric and Jenna. My squeal of excitement is out before I can contain it. The sound out of Jenna's mouth matches mine and she half drags Ric to where I stand, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

My arms are around her as soon as she is within reach and we jump around like two teenagers. God, I missed her.

We finally calm down enough to form coherent sentences and Jenna pulls me to a small love seat against the wall while Alaric and Damon check into our rooms.

"You okay, Elena? After everything?" Jenna asks softly.

"It's hard coming back after feeling so normal for the past two weeks, but I really think I'm good. Damon's helping," I tell her, glancing over to where Damon stands at the counter. I admire his profile for another second before I turn back to Jenna.

"What?" I ask in response to her knowing smile.

"Nothing, I was just worried about you for a while there, but I'm so relieved to see you happy and safe now," she says, her voice quivering slightly.

"I love you, Jenna," I reply, blinking back the sting of tears I feel. This is exactly what I needed to hear.

"I'm so proud of how far you've come," she says, cupping my cheek in her hand. I give her a big smile and take her in my arms again.

"I hate to break up the pow-wow, but we have a room to christen," Damon interrupts. My eyes go wide as my gaze snaps up to find him wearing a very self-satisfied smirk.

"Damon!" I reprimand, slapping him on the arm, but there's no fire behind it. "You love being an ass."

_"I may be a real bad boy, but baby I'm a real good man,"_ he sings in my ear, sending shivers down my spine as a laugh bubbles out of my mouth.

I love him like this. He's been so playful and carefree since I told him that I loved him in his barn. It's like he finally believes that someone truly loves him. The thought makes me incredibly sad and happy at the same time.

I hug Jenna, telling her I'll try my best to see her another time while we are in Vegas, but we both know that may not happen given the tight schedule.

In the elevator, Damon swipes his keycard into the panel, presses the button for our floor and up it goes. I snuggle into Damon's side, wrapping my arms around his waist. I revel in the calm because I know that rehearsals are going to be brutal, and once the paparazzi find out where we are, they are going to be relentless. Why can't it just be adoring and supportive fans following me around? That part I could live with definitely.

The elevator dings on our floor and Damon and I saunter down the hallway to our room. Damon swipes the key through the lock on the door. My mouth drops, as it swings open. This is the room Damon booked for us?

I gawk as I walk through the foyer and into the living area, which is curved in a huge arc with enormous floor to ceiling windows that look out over the fountains. The whole suite is all marble floors, dark wood paneling, and plush cream furniture. It is astounding.

My mouth is on the ground as I turn, but it snaps shut when I find Damon standing only inches from me, radiating pure male heat. Oh shit, I'm in trouble. I take a deep breath, trying to control my raging hormones, but I only inhale the smell of him. Good Lord.

"Damon," I warn. Well, I try to warn him. It comes out as more of a needy moan. How does he constantly do this to me?

"We have a room to christen," he reminds me, his voice low and seductive as he leans in close, not touching me at all save for his breath on my lips.

"I have to leave for rehearsals in a half hour," I whisper, knowing that I should get away, but not wanting to in the slightest.

"Oh, that's plenty of time," he breathes, before his lips descend on mine and his arms wrap around my waist. I fight it for a full four seconds before I cave, my fingers tangling into his soft hair and my legs wrapping around his hips.

Oh yeah, a half hour will be _plenty_ of time.

* * *

When I finally get back to our hotel suite, it's nearly one in the morning. It's been hell putting this performance together, and I'm nervous for what will happen come tomorrow night. I really just need a drink, Damon's arms around me, and his voice in my ear telling me it'll all be okay.

Rehearsals lasted for almost twelve hours. There were so many tiny details that we had to go over again and again, plus camera blocking, lights, sound, all of it. Needless to say, I'm exhausted. Both mentally and physically. Dealing with Mason was a nightmare and since we're performing with his band, there was no one there that would say more than two words to me, except for the stage crew.

I open our suite door slowly and hear Damon's voice echoing off the marble tile. He sounds angry and as I step further into the suite, I hear a second voice. A woman's voice. I peer around the corner of the foyer and see Damon and Katherine standing across from each other in the living area. What the hell is she doing here?

"Come on, Damon," she purrs, stepping closer to him and pushing her breasts out seductively. It makes my blood boil. "You and I both know that you've just been biding your time with that singer girl until we were both ready to be together again."

"You need to leave, Kat," Damon snaps, backing away from her. The ice in his voice chills me to the bone.

"You know we were good together," she says earnestly, countering his movements so he can't get too far from her. "C'mon, Damon, I made some mistakes. I know that and I'm sorry. How long are you going to keep punishing me?" Her voice cracks and I have to remind myself that she's an actress, so of course she's good at sounding sincere. It's her job.

Damon sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, pausing a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm not punishing you, Katherine." His voice has thawed considerably and his sympathy hurts more than I can say. Why hasn't he thrown her out yet? Why did he even let her in?

"Yeah, you are," she says softly, hanging her head a moment before it snaps back up and she sneers, "I know what you're trying to achieve letting that little singer fall all over you."

Damon raises an eyebrow at her and crosses his arms over his chest. "Green really isn't your color," he remarks.

"Just give it up, Damon. I'm here and I'm saying everything you've wanted to hear." Katherine's voice is soft and alluring again, trying to coax him into agreeing with her.

God, I hate that woman.

"That's just it," he hisses, uncrossing his arms and taking a menacing step toward her. "I don't want to hear it."

"Then maybe I need to convince you some other way," she replies, not backing down from him.

Oh God, this isn't going to end well.

"Wha-"

Damon's question is abruptly cut off when Katherine presses her lips to his and wraps her arms around his neck to keep him from getting away.

That. Bitch. My hands clench into fists and the only thing keeping me from ripping all the hair from her pretty little head is the pain from my nails digging into my palms.

I feel like it lasts forever, but mere seconds later, Damon throws her off and wipes at his mouth like he can't get her off of him fast enough.

"What the fuck, Katherine?!" His voice is harsh and full of disgust. "What part of 'I want nothing to do with you' do you not understand?"

"You're making a huge mistake, Damon," she snarls. "Your father was right about you. You'll never amount to anything more than a washed-up, has-been."

The silence that descends after her remark nearly brings me to my knees. It's like she slapped him. I can't take any more of this.

"Get. Out." My voice rings out across the large room. Katherine's head snaps toward me so fast that I think her head might continue around to make a full 360 degree turn. Damon, however, just squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head, chin to chest, totally defeated. I have to fight my overwhelming desire to claw her eyes out for hurting Damon. My Damon.

"Well if it isn't the walking scandal herself," she says with a sadistic smile, after regaining her composure.

"You need to leave," I say, stepping further into the room. "Damon doesn't love you anymore."

"And you think that he loves you? After all the lengths you had to go through just to get his attention," she says, shaking her head and closing the distance between us so she only stands a foot away. "Provoking Stefan just so you could get close to Damon again? That's pretty low, Elena."

The crack of my hand against her cheek rings out in the otherwise silent hotel suite.

"Get out before I call security," I tell her, my voice ridiculously calm for how riotous my emotions are right now.

With her ego thoroughly bruised, Katherine disappears without another word.

The suite is deathly quiet, and I feel like Damon is standing a mile away from me rather than just a few feet across the room. I can feel the emotional distance between us and I hate it. I cross the space between us in a few quick strides and take his face in my hands.

"Damon." I whisper his name like it's a lifeline. I need him to hear in my voice what he means to me.

When he lifts his gaze to my face, I feel my heart clench. That light that has been in his eyes the past two weeks has vanished. And I know it's because of Katherine's words. The same words that his father once said to him. Hearing them from the one person whose love he yearned for must have been torture enough, but to hear them repeated by the woman who single-handedly ruined his life is beyond cruel.

"Damon, don't shut me out," I beg. I can feel the panic rising in me because I don't know how to save him from this.

"You know, I never thought much of it when my father uttered those words to me on his death bed. I was going to show him that he was wrong and then I went and proved him right. He was right," he says as if in a daze.

"No, Damon, he was wrong," I say passionately. I just need to get through to him, to get him away from the demons that still haunt him.

"And look at you. All I have ever done is bring you down." He takes a step away, letting my hands drop from his face, and runs a hand through his hair. He won't look at me. "I'm the one holding you back."

I suck in a painful breath. No, no, no. This is not happening again. I'm not going to lose him. Not like this.

"Damon, you better listen and listen good," I tell him, taking his face in my hands again and forcing him to look at me. To see the love I have for him and to feel how much I trust him. "I love you as a man, and more than that, I respect you as my producer. I wouldn't be here if not for you. If not for you pushing me, helping me, challenging me, and encouraging me. So don't you dare think that you ever brought me down.." My voice is growing louder now as adrenaline pounds through me. "And don't you dare let Katherine or your father bring you down anymore. You aren't that person. You are not a has-been. Don't let them control you. Don't let them win."

I take a step away before he can say anything else. We both need the space, and he needs to figure this out for himself. He needs to slay those demons on his own.

"When you're ready to accept the man that I fell in love with, that showed me how to love again when I'd lost all hope, then you know where to find me." I tell him before I turn and step out of the main area and into the second bedroom. I barely get the door closed before the tears come.

I pray to God that he'll come to his senses. That he will choose to believe in what I see, to accept and love himself as I do. He's come too far to fall back down that hole again.

I can't lose him. I don't think my heart would survive.

* * *

**I love a good cliffhanger. **

**The song that Damon sings in Elena's ear is called Real Good Man by Tim McGraw. It's totally perfect for Damon. **

**Never fear you guys, the next chapter is already outlined and it's been planned since the beginning, which is one of the reasons this chapter was so difficult, it had to set up just so for the next chapter.**

**I hate to say this, but next chapter is going to be the last chapter of DITD. There may be an epilogue if when I finish the chapter, I feel that it needs one. It's been an amazing ride and you all have been so great. You have no idea what your support has meant to me.**

**Follow me on Twitter: rachellebelle08**

**Reviews are love. **


	27. I Won't Give Up

**The wait for this chapter was not NEARLY as bad as last, right?**

**Thank you all for your reviews, they truly mean so much to me. **

**Another HUGE/GIGANTIC thank you to Layla Reyne for making this look presentable and pretty. She does such an amazing job with everything I throw at her. She's amazing.**

**This is it, you guys. The last official chapter of Dancing in the Dark.**

* * *

Considering my restless night, I lie in bed most of the morning, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself that last night was a dream. That Damon is still mine and that things between us are still okay. It does nothing but make it harder to accept that it really did happen. That I very well may have lost him to the darkness he had worked so hard to claw himself out of.

I finally push myself out of bed, having stretched my time just about as thin as it can get before I'm supposed to meet Jenna and Caroline to get ready for tonight. I mechanically run through my basic morning routine, and when I've done all I can inside the safety of this bedroom, I know I have to venture into the living room and face the possibility of seeing Damon.

I close the bedroom door behind me lightly and walk into the living room to find Damon sitting slouched at the table. He's facing away from me, staring out the window, still in the clothes he was wearing last night. His hair is in disarray, I assume from running his hands through it. My heart stops when I see the bottle of whiskey on the table next to him. It's still sealed. I close my eyes and breathe a silent sigh of relief. Maybe all hope is not lost, but it's still a depressing sight.

He doesn't turn or acknowledge my presence in any way as I enter the living area and fiddle with the fancy single cup coffee maker. The silence in the room is deafening and even the loud noise of the coffee brewing doesn't help cut the tension.

I fill my travel cup and a second mug for him. Crossing the room, I feel like I'm walking into the lion's den. With a shaky hand, I set the mug down next to him on the table. I clench my retreating hand into a fist, stifling the urge to run it through his hair.

"I made coffee," I say, desperate for even a scrap of attention from him. Just a hint that he's still in there somewhere trying to find his way back to me.

His eyes flick to mine for a brief second, but it's enough to destroy me. There is nothing behind his eyes, no spark, no light, nothing but pain. He turns back to the window, not even touching the mug I set down for him.

"I'm meeting Caroline and Jenna to get ready for tonight," I tell him, but he doesn't turn back.

A war wages inside of me. I want so badly to wrap my arms around him, bury my face in his chest and tell him it'll all be okay. It hurts more than anything that I can't, that even if I did, it would be a lie. Only he can fix this.

I grab my bag and head to the door, but stop when I'm nearly at the foyer.

"Damon?" My voice is just loud enough to carry to where he sits.

The only clue that he's listening is that he turns his head just enough so I can see his profile.

"I'll see you tonight?" I didn't mean for it to be a question, but right now I'm questioning everything.

He doesn't say a word. He only turns back to the window and it's all the answer I need. I respond with a sad nod that he doesn't see before I turn and get out of the suffocating suite, blinking back tears, refusing to let them fall and betray my calm exterior.

* * *

Jenna and Caroline greet me with hugs and excitement that I would love to mirror, but I just can't, not when Damon's sanity hangs in the balance.

I sit on an armchair near where Caroline is working on Jenna. I'm mesmerized by how dexterous she is, how her hands move over and through Jenna's hair so easily, curling and pinning. She truly is a master of her trade.

"Elena?"

I jump like I've heard a gun shot and look at both of them, not even registering who said my name.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Caroline asks, eyeing the purple bags under my puffy bloodshot eyes.

"I should've known Damon wasn't the only one," Jenna mumbles more to herself than anyone else, but I hear her loud and clear.

"What did you say?" I ask, scooting to the edge of my seat, desperate for any clue as to what may be going on in Damon's head.

Jenna eyes me warily and then sighs like she's going to tell me something she's not supposed to.

"Damon called Ric early this morning to pick him up from some bar down the strip," Jenna says softly.

"What?" I whisper in disbelief. No, no, no. I shouldn't have said those things to him. I should've stayed up with him, talking it out. I should've done something other than run away and hide behind my bedroom door.

"Ric said he didn't drink a thing. He called Ric to keep him from doing so," Jenna explains.

Oh, thank God.

"What else?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"That's all I know," Jenna says apologetically. "He's spending the day with Damon."

I only nod. That's good. Damon needs someone like Alaric today. Someone who can maybe help him, make him see that he can't continue his life this way. He's helped him before. I just pray he can do it again.

"Elena?" Caroline's tentative voice registers in my mind and I glance up at her. "Is everything okay?"

The softness of her words opens the floodgates. Tears stream down my cheeks as I shake my head. No, everything is definitely _not_ okay.

As if on cue, they both wrap me in their arms, echoing various words and sounds of sympathy. I let them hold me; let them help me shoulder the burden for just a little bit. I need someone too. When I feel the tears subside, I pull away but neither Caroline nor Jenna takes their eyes off of me.

"What happened?" Jenna asks gently.

I relay the whole story to them. How Katherine appeared in our suite - "That bitch!" Caroline exclaims - how she said all of those horrible things about Damon, how I watched the light in his eyes fade until there was nothing but the cold and detached shell of a man I met a year ago. Then I tell them about all the progress we had made the past two weeks on Damon's ranch and how that glimpse into what might have been just makes everything now, this reality, so much worse.

"I can't save him," I whisper hoarsely. "Not like he saved me. This time, he has to save himself."

"Elena," Caroline says, moving so she can place a comforting hand on my knee. "If anything is going to save him, it'll be his love for you."

* * *

The red carpet is the same song and dance that I've done several times now, but I've never done it on my own before. Jenna and Alaric skipped the spectacle and went straight inside to their seats, but being a nominee, I am expected to make an appearance. Luckily, Bonnie leads my PR team, so I'm not totally alone.

I'm dressed to the nines in a coral Oscar de la Renta gown complete with gorgeous silver sandals and dangling diamond earrings. With my hair falling in soft waves down my back and my make-up expertly done, I feel beautiful. I only wish Damon was here with me. I know he'd love the dress and probably make some lewd comment about it looking better in a pile on the floor. But, unsurpisingly, he's not here, and I've just gotta pull on my big girl panties and deal with it.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I turn my attention to the fans screaming my name from behind the ropes. I take my time with them to pose for pictures, sign autographs and say thank you for their support since day one. They are all so sweet and kind to me that it's hard when Bonnie nudges me away with a sympathetic smile.

I pose and smile for the flashing cameras, trying not to be creeped out by the strange men all calling my name. I move on and give interviews, carefully avoiding any questions about my personal life. I'm not ready or willing to talk about my breakup with Mason and the things I've shared with Damon are too intimate and too fresh. They are mine and mine only.

When I finally enter the theater and an usher escorts me to my seat, my eyes automatically scan the room for any sign of Damon. There is none save for his empty seat next to me.

We are informed there is a seat filler on hand and we all shift down so I'm on the end and the seat filler scoots down the narrow aisle to the empty seat. Luckily, Jenna is on my other side and we chat animatedly until the show starts. I try to pay attention and remember my cues for when I'm needed back stage to present. It's early in the show, so I'm back at my seat in no time and I don't have to worry about anything but my performance that closes out the show.

When the first category I'm nominated for, Top Female Vocalist, comes up, I'm a bundle of nerves. Of course I don't expect to win, but there's still that little voice of hope in the back of my mind that whispers _what if_. I listen patiently as they review the nominees, cringing when I hear my name because I still feel like this is all a dream

By the time the presenter is tearing open the envelope, I'm white-knuckling the armrests on either side of me. Oh, God. I'm ninety-five percent sure I'm going to throw up. The blood is raging so loudly in my ears that I barely hear them call my name.

It isn't until Jenna jumps up and pulls me into a hug that I realize what has happened. I won. I won! The smile that lights up my face threatens to break it in two. I get passed around my small group of supporters and as I walk up the short aisle to the podium, I'm congratulated by people I've looked up to all my life. Life is crazy that way.

I stutter and giggle through my acceptance speech and, truth be told, I'm not completely sure if I'm even speaking English. Everything goes by in a blur of excitement, giving my speech, being escorted off stage, posing for the backstage photo shoot. I'm still riding my high when I get back to my seat. Jenna holds my hand and squeezes it excitedly. I glance aside at the seat filler and I can't help but wish Damon were here to share this moment. I try to ignore the pain that lances through my heart and the tears that instantly prick at the corners of my eyes. I quickly look away and shake it off, refusing to let go of the awesome feeling of winning. Especially because I know that I'm not going to win the other two categories I was miraculously nominated for, Album of the Year and Entertainer of the Year.

"Excuse me, I gotta take this," Ric whispers to Jenna and me before he shuffles past us and out of the theater, phone to his ear. I give Jenna a questioning look, but she just shrugs and turns her attention back to the show.

My mind goes straight to Damon. What if he's in trouble? What if something happened? What if he caved, got drunk and got himself in trouble again? Oh, God. My mind races with so many awful possibilities that I completely ignore what is happening onstage.

Twenty minutes later, Ric is back, but I can tell he's agitated and nervous. He won't stop fidgeting and he's not paying any attention to the show. I can feel his nervous energy from where I'm sitting. My heart pounds erratically, but I tell myself that since he's here, nothing too terrible could've happened. Right?

When my next category - Album of the Year - is announced, the show holds my undivided attention once again. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that I'm winning this category; just being nominated gives me a thrill of joy. So I sit back and try to relax because I keep daydreaming about what it'd be like to win.

"And the winner of Album of the Year is Elena Gilbert's _American Honey_!"

Wait, what?

I'm on my feet again, being hugged and smiled at as I float up the aisle once more. The award is heavy in my hands and I address the audience again, thanking them for their support, thanking Ric and the studio, and everyone that's put their time and effort into this album. Again, I'm swept off stage, photos are snapped of me holding the award and more interviews are given.

I stay backstage this time to change and prepare for my performance. Caroline picked out a white sleeveless blouse and a pair of black straight leg jeans paired with some rocking nude pumps. The hairdresser on hand fluffs up my hair and darkens my make up.

I pace backstage, waiting for Mason and his band to join me. They should've been back here by now. I feel my anxiety rise when I notice I have just twenty minutes before we're due on stage. Two minutes pass and each is like a growing weight on my chest. They still aren't here.

I turn when the door to the greenroom swings open, expecting to see Mason and his band, but it's Alaric instead. The surprise of his appearance momentarily distracts me from my building anxiety, but then I study his face and I know immediately something is wrong.

"What happened?" I ask cautiously. I'm not sure if I want to know, but my mind is running rampant with worst-case scenarios, all having to do with Damon and that phone call Ric received.

"Mason and his band are a no-show," he reveals.

"No," I whisper in abject horror. No, no, no! How dare he pull this shit with me! Embarrassing me in front of millions of people. Again! That asshole!

My whole world comes crumbling down. I have fifteen minutes before I have to be on stage for the biggest performance of my life. And that performance has just been shot to hell.

I look to Ric for some sort of guidance and he gives me a reassuring smile.

"We have a plan, Elena."

_We?_

* * *

The stage is dark and my nerves are at an all time high. I adjust my earpiece and flex my fingers, trying to dispel some of this energy without making any sounds the microphone could pick up.

How Alaric found a piano and worked out a new performance with the sound and camera crews in just fifteen minutes, I'll never know.

I close my eyes and run through the music in my head. Playing a brand new, unreleased song is risky, but Alaric was convinced this was the song to play, despite the fact that it's supposed to be a duet. I'm not sure how he even knew about it in the first place. I take a deep breath when I hear the count down to filming. This is it. I pray for strength and that this doesn't blow up in my face.

The spotlight over the piano comes up, and the audience cheers their approval. This is it. It's now or never.

With shaking hands, I play the opening notes. It takes just a few seconds for me to get lost in the music, for it to take me back to the mind frame I was in when I wrote this song.

_"Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor._

_Reaching for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore._

_And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?_

_For me it happens all the time."_

As I prepare for the chorus, I can't help but think of how it sounded when Damon's voice joined with mine when we first sang this together back at his ranch house. I wish fervently that he was here with me. My fingers fly across the piano keys, playing out the melody that reminds me so much of him. I glance up when I notice the lights rising on the other side of the stage. I nearly lose it when I see Damon walk on stage, strumming along on an acoustic guitar, just how we've played it the past two weeks. He doesn't miss a beat when his eyes lock with mine, giving me a sweet smile before he joins in with the chorus.

_"It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now._

_Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now._

_And I don't know how I can do without._

_I just need you now."_

I know the moment the audience realizes that Damon is on stage performing for the first time in nearly three years. I glance out and they are on their feet going crazy when Damon sings his verse. My own heart swells with pride and it's all I can do to keep playing and not cheer right along with them.

_"Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door._

_Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before._

_And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?_

_For me it happens all the time."_

I nearly fall in love with him all over again listening to the words he wrote, the song of mine that he finished. How even when we were apart, we yearned for each other. Together, we finish out the rest of the song, our voices mingling perfectly, complimenting and harmonizing.

_"It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now._

_Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now._

_And I don't know how I can do without._

_I just need you now._

_Oh whoa_

_Yes I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all._

_It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now._

_And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now._

_Well I don't know how I can do without._

_I just need you now_

_I just need you now._

_Oh baby I need you now."_

There is only a second of silence after the song ends before the audience bursts into cheers, but all I see is Damon. He's wearing his typical boots, dark blue jeans, black button up and his black cowboy hat. He is every bit the man that I'm so insanely in love with. Seeing him here on stage where he belongs gives me hope that things might be okay.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he pulls the guitar over his head and props it against the piano as he walks toward me. I take his offered hand and let him pull me up off the piano bench. I stare into his beautiful blue eyes and see all the love I have for him reflected back at me.

Simultaneously, we turn and face the audience that is giving us a standing ovation. Hand in hand, we take our bow. The smile on my face is one of pure joy. Damon's relief is palpable as we exit the stage, the sound of the audience's applause following us into the greenroom.

Unease settles in the pit of my stomach when I hear the door click shut and realize we are alone. What happens now? Where do we go from here? Has anything changed for Damon?

Every single one of my doubts is banished when he turns me around and his lips land on mine. I could weep with the love I feel for this man and how right we feel together. I throw my arms around his neck, not ready for any distance between us, no matter how miniscule. I can feel everything in his kiss. Though I know I'm going to eventually need to hear the words, in this moment, this kiss is enough.

He pulls away, cradling my face in his hands and smiles down at me. He is elated and probably still riding the high from our performance.

"I'm so proud of you," I tell him softly, resting my hands on his hips, totally unable to keep from touching him.

He closes his eyes, as if he's trying to soak in every word from my mouth like it's the most precious gift he could receive.

"I know," he whispers. "I'm proud of me, too." My heart clenches and then explodes. I have to blink hard to keep the tears at bay. I have a hard time containing my smile when I pull him against me and hug him hard, burying my face in his chest.

"I love you so much," he breathes into my hair and if it were possible for someone to die from too much love, I would be a goner.

I let his words wash over me and I cherish how he said them with such fierceness, like they were his lifeline. Like they said so much, but not enough all at the same time.

"You're really okay?" I say, pulling back so I can really study his face.

"Yeah," he breathes with a reverent smile. "Thanks to you and the lecture I got from Ric and his fist."

My eyes bulge. "He hit you?"

"Yeah," he says with a faint chuckle. "And made it clear that if I didn't get my head out of my ass and realize all the people I have cheering me on, he'd gladly do it again."

"Did he hurt you?" I ask, frantically running my hands over his chest and stomach, checking for any tender places.

He stills my hands with one of his own and rests them in the center of his chest. With the other, he tilts my chin up and places a soft chaste kiss on my lips before he whispers, "Just enough to realize that losing you would hurt far worse."

I have to blink back the sting of tears behind my eyes. I can't ruin Caroline's work, but Damon's sweet words and the conviction behind them are nearly my undoing.

We are still wrapped up in each other when a stagehand comes in looking incredibly embarrassed at the scene he interrupted. He kindly tells me that I have to be in my place for the last award of the night.

As we follow him down the halls backstage, Damon refuses to let go of my hand. I know that people are going to have something to say about it tomorrow, but I don't care. Let them talk. Damon is mine and I am his and nothing else matters.

I stand on my mark and listen for my name over the speakers. The man behind the camera points at me and I smile into it, still giddy from the events of the last few minutes. Had it only been minutes?

I'm not even nervous about them announcing the winner for Entertainer of the Year. I'm not even sure how I managed to get nominated, but I am too caught up in Damon's blue eyes to really care. I'm confused when they grew wide and he rushes at me with a loud cheer before sweeping me into his arms. I'm not sure what is going on, but I don't mind his exuberance, even if it is in front of a camera.

He sets me down and seems to realize I don't understand what is going on.

"Elena, you won!" he says excitedly, pushing me toward the stage entrance.

I won?

I'm in a daze as I wander onto the stage, the lights bright in my eyes as I try to see the crowd, but boy do I hear them. They roar their approval with so much gusto, I know they are all be on their feet. This is incredible.

The award settles into my hands and then the tears finally come. I can't believe I'm crying like a total wuss. I thank my fans for being so supportive because without them, I'd have no audiences to play to. I thank Ric and Damon and my family personally. This is all just too surreal and before I start rambling, I give a last big watery thank you and leave the stage to find myself in Damon's arms again.

The night is a blur of hugs, kisses and celebration. Our small group foregoes the official after party for a late night chain restaurant. Damon's touch never leaves my skin. There's a hand on the small of my back or on my knee when we are sitting at the table. He holds my hand wherever we go, fingers laced together, and whispers promises for the rest of the night in my ear.

I'm dead on my feet when we finally enter our hotel suite, but there's an energy running between us that excites me. Damon leads me into the room we shared on our first night here, but he doesn't stop until we reach the bathroom. He leaves me standing in the middle of the spacious room to start the shower. No words are exchanged while Damon works to rid us of our clothes, only glances and smiles and kisses.

Steam has filled the room when he pulls me into the shower with him. The spray is warm on my back and I tilt my head so it soaks my hair and runs in rivulets down my back. Damon's hands massage shampoo into my hair and I hold onto his hips to steady myself. His fingers are magical against my scalp and I close my eyes and give myself over to the relaxation, occasionally brushing my lips against his bare chest.

There is something so intimate about showering together. We touch and smile at each other as we take turns pampering the other, both content to take things slow tonight and just enjoy being together. I love the feel of his soft slick skin beneath my fingers and my lips. I love the satisfied purr that comes from the back of his throat when I rub the pads of my fingers over his scalp.

When the water runs cold, he shuts off the shower and wraps me in a fluffy towel. I watch, totally unashamed, as he dries himself and then slings his towel around his hips. He grabs a third and meticulously dries my hair. He runs it through the strands and then down my arms and back. His face is one of concentration and admiration when he drops to his knees in front of me to run it down each of my legs. My breath catches when his eyes flick up to mine and I see the fire burning behind them. Everything inside of me clenches in anticipation. He rises from the floor slowly, running his bare hands up my legs and under the towel still wrapped around me. I let it loosen and fall to the floor while his fingertips glide over my stomach, brush the outsides of my breasts, and dance across my collarbone.

I can't look away from his face, everything I've ever wanted from him is there as plain as day. There is nothing between us now. No secrets, no resentments, no past mistakes, only the promise of the future. When his lips touch mine, I don't just see it, I _feel_ it. I feel it in the way a simple kiss spirals into something passionate and all consuming. I feel it in the way his fingers dig into my skin like he can't hold me tight enough. I feel it in the way my body responds to his like I'll never get enough of him.

He lays me down on the bed and stands back to admire all of my skin on display for him only. His body covers mine and his lips devour every inch of me, whispering words of love as they brush and nip and soothe. I want to take this slow, to never let this end, but I want him so badly. I need him in every piece of me. He has filled my heart and my mind to capacity and all I need is him to fill me physically now as well. I need that closeness.

He moves back up my body after driving me to the edge over and over again, and I pull him to me, pressing my lips to every part of him that comes close.

"I need you, Damon," I breathe in his ear. My hands slide down to his lower back and my nails dig into his skin as he positions himself and sinks into me. I arch my back off the bed, and it's so perfect I almost can't handle it. He pauses and his breath is choppy in my ear. I can hear what I do to him, what he feels when we are connected like this. I trail my lips over his shoulder and up his neck, pressing them to the perfect angle of his jaw. He turns his head and his mouth seeks mine. I breathe him in, wanting to take him in, all of him.

"I love you, Elena," he groans as he starts to move. He sets a slow pace, building the burn a little at a time. Neither of us is in a rush. Tonight is not about the race to release. It's all about feeling each other, enjoying this moment for what it is, not what it leads to.

"I love you, too. So much." My words are punctuated by every thrust of his hips. I tangle my legs around his, wanting to feel every part of him, the hair on his legs brushing against my soft skin, his belly rubbing against mine, my breasts pressed into his chest, my fingers grasping at the skin of his back. I want to crawl into him and make us one in every way possible.

I feel the build intensify with every move he makes, and when he adjusts the angle, I cry out. We both lose ourselves to the rhythm he creates. I'm a slave to it, forced to ride it to the very end. I listen to the sounds of our lovemaking, the rustle of the sheets, our heavy breathing, our bodies moving against each other.

"Damon," I moan his name, sinking my teeth into his shoulder as the waves crash over me and sweep me away. I can feel him following inside of me, hear him cry out my name, feel every muscle in his body tighten, just like mine. We are lost to the pleasure.

He collapses on top of me as the last of the pulsing inside of me subsides. We are both breathing hard, covered in a sheen of sweat and water left over from our shower. I welcome his weight, loving the way it presses me into the mattress, the way it covers me, protects me. I feel his love for me in the air around us.

He rolls over, taking me with him and the thought occurs to me, I'm going to love this man for the rest of my life.

* * *

***bursts into tears***

**There is just the epilogue to write and post, but then that's it. It's over. It's a sad feeling and a bit scary. I haven't decided what my next project will be, though I'm leaning toward writing an original story. The first chapter of which is almost finished, just needs some tweaks here and there. I'm pretty excited about it and I've been trying to decide if I should post it on Wattpad or on my LJ. I'll be sure to let you guys know if you are interested.**

**The song is obviously Need You Now by Lady Antebellum. **

**If you want the full love scene effect, read with I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz playing. That's what I wrote it to.**

**Follow me on Twitter for future story updates: rachellebelle08**

**Again, thank you all for the support for this story. I never imagined it would become what it has and it's all thanks to you guys. I appreciate it more than you know.**

**Reviews are love.**


	28. It's Your Love

**Okay, here it is. The epilogue of Dancing in the Dark. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Why can't we just elope?" I whine from the passenger seat.

Damon scoffs and rolls his eyes before he answers, "Because one, your parents would kill me. And two... what I just said."

I have to admit, he has a point, but the last thing I want to do is plan a flashy wedding or even pay someone to plan it. Despite our profession, we aren't flashy people. That just wouldn't suit us. And we've never done anything the "normal" way.

I gaze out the car window and let my mind wander through the past year of my life. Whenever I think about it, I can't help but smile. After the amazing reception of our song at the AMA's last year, we decided to record and release it.

It went number one in about eight hours.

Then it shattered the record for the amount of time it held that spot.

And just three months ago, we won two Grammy's for that very song.

It was Damon's idea to write and record a record together, about each other. Lord knows, I had plenty of songs to contribute, but what I didn't know was that Damon did too.

We released our album a month ago and it's still number one.

But the most rewarding part of the whole experience was watching Damon throw himself back into the music. He embraced it like an old friend rather than running scared. To this day, every time I listen to him sing or watch him write lyrics or play an instrument, I feel the pride well up in my chest because I know how hard he's worked to get to this point in his life. When we were working on the album, every time he felt insecure about something he was doing, he would come to me. And every time, it floored me to think of the level of trust he has in me to feel comfortable doing so.

To the public though, the infamous Damon Salvatore was back with a vengeance. On stage, he's confident, a little cocky and incredibly sexy. He plays every song perfectly, singing every note like a country angel. There are times when we perform together that I find myself just staring at him, trying to soak in every moment. Cherishing them all. I always find myself thinking back to the shell of a man he was when I met him and how hard we had to fight for what we have now.

"What's going on in that head of yours? Sad that we're missing the show tonight?" Damon asks, interrupting my stroll down memory lane.

"You know I'd gladly miss anything for a trip to the ranch house," I tell him.

Needing a break from the madness, we decided to skip the AMA's tonight and drive out to Damon's ranch house for a week of relaxation. Maybe we'll finally get a start on planning this wedding, though I'm still set on eloping. That way the day will be ours and there would be no way the paparazzi could ruin it.

I glance at the sparkling ring on my finger and think about all the uproar it caused. It seemed the entire world had and still has something to say about it. However, the people we actually care about were ecstatic. I made sure I called them all to tell them the news the night it happened, because I couldn't bear them finding out through the gossip blogs. The same ones that still claim I cheated on Mason with Damon. Damon constantly threatens to get them shut down.

We pull up to the ranch and my heart swells. This has to be my favorite place in the entire world. It is the place where Damon healed me. Where we confessed our love for each other. Where our hit Need You Now became what it is today. Where Damon asked me to marry him.

It was the last time when we were here that he popped the question.

_He was fidgety and nervous the entire day. After sunset, he asked me to come to the barn with him. I was so caught off guard that I took his shaking hand without question and followed him out the back door. There was a faint glow coming from inside the barn that I soon learned were hundreds of mason jars filled with candles. I took it all in, noticing that the entire barn looked like it had been deep cleaned just for that night. And that was when my heart started to pound. I had no idea what he was planning, but it was obviously something big._

_He whispered my name and I turned to see him smiling at me shyly. It was my favorite smile of his, one that made my heart flip in delight._

_"This is where you told me that you loved me," he said softly, closing the distance between us with a few strides. "This is where I truly felt loved for the first time since my mother died."_

_Tears blurred my eyes at that point and when he dropped to one knee, a strangled sob escaped my throat. He flipped open the ring box he pulled from his pocket and my hands covered my mouth with a gasp._

_"And this is where I'm going to ask you to marry me."_

I smile over at him now, and I can tell he's remembering the same thing. Or, Damon being Damon, he's more likely recalling the very long night of celebrating we did after the proposal.

"What?" he asks, feigning innocence and knowing damn well he just got caught.

I just laugh and roll my eyes before I slide out of his Range Rover. He beats me to the trunk and refuses to let me lift a single piece of my luggage. I don't argue because I know it's something he likes to do for me.

I enjoy how peaceful it is out here in our own little world. When I'm here, I pretend that nothing exists outside of our relationship. I admire the beauty of the setting sun as I follow Damon up the front porch steps.

"I have a surprise for you," he says, stopping in front of the door. I eye him curiously, but continue to follow him inside. The shades over the back windows are down, which strikes me as odd. Both times I've been here, he's never lowered them. I don't have time to ponder that because he's nudging me toward the stairs with one of the suitcases.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," I mutter.

At the top of the stairs, he sets our luggage down outside the master bedroom door. He gives me a mischievous smile before opening the door and stepping aside.

I walk into the bedroom cautiously and freeze when I see the white fabric laid out on the bed. I approach slowly, wondering if it's a mirage that's going to disappear.

I pick up the strapless gown and hold it off the floor to admire the entire thing. The bodice has a sweetheart neckline and the skirt flows from the empire waist all the way to the floor. It's absolutely breathtaking and so totally me. But I still don't understand how this all fits together.

I turn and look at Damon quizzically. "What is this?"

He steps carefully into the room. His eyes never leave mine when he answers, "It's a wedding dress."

"Well, I get that," I reply teasingly. "But why is it here?"

"Because we're eloping," he says matter-of-factly, as if he's referring to the weather or the color of the hardwood floor beneath our feet.

"What?" My fingers clutch the fabric tighter. I don't understand. Now? Here? Where? When?

"Well, I guess it's not technically eloping," he admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Since all your family and our friends are here already."

"What?" I repeat like a dumbfounded idiot.

"So, it's more of a surprise wedding since everyone knew about it but you," he continues, as if I hadn't said a thing.

"You planned this?" I ask, still in a daze. A surprise wedding? Eloping _with_ my family and friends?

He shifts uncomfortably, dropping his eyes to the ground. " We don't have to do this if you don't want to, if you want to plan everything-"

"God, I love you," I interrupt him.

His eyes snap to mine and a broad smile lights up his face. I lay the dress back on the bed and throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my lips to his neck.

"Thank you," I whisper. He holds me tight for a long minute until we hear someone clear her throat.

I reluctantly pull away from Damon to find my mom and Caroline standing in the doorway. This is too good to be true. I look up at Damon with a wonderstruck smile. I can't believe he did this for me. My heart swells with love for this man in front of me.

"Alright, break it up you two!" Caroline says, pushing between us. "You've seen enough of the bride, now go!"

Damon just smiles fondly at her and then turns back to me. "I'll see you downstairs."

"I'll be the one in white," I reply cheekily.

I watch him hug my mother on his way out. I try to read her lips to see what she is saying to him, but judging by the serene smile on her face and the tears in her eyes, I am not too concerned.

My mom closes the door once Damon leaves, and I don't hesitate a second before going to her and wrapping my arms around her.

"I'm so happy for you, sweetheart," she whispers shakily.

"Thanks, Mom," I reply.

Caroline's excited voice pulls us apart with smiles on our faces. "Okay, we've got a bride to makeover!"

* * *

I have a huge smile on my face as I sit at the large table set up inside Damon's barn. I look into all the faces of the people I love, the people who mean the world to me, the people with whom I get to share the happiest day of my life.

The ceremony was so beautiful and so perfect. My dad walked me from the house to the backyard where Damon stood just at the entrance to the barn. There were lanterns hanging from the trees and cream curtains hanging in the doorway of the barn that had been pulled aside invitingly. Once my eyes locked with Damon's nothing else mattered. It wasn't until I took his hand in mine that I noticed the tears in his eyes. I don't think I've ever loved him more than I did in that moment.

My dad conducted the ceremony in front of the small crowd of people gathered around us. It was perfect and simple, just what I wanted, and when Damon kissed me, I felt like I was home. Like I finally found my place in this huge world.

"I have a surprise for you, Mrs. Salvatore," Damon says into my ear. We've all just finished an amazing catered dinner and are enjoying each other's company.

"You are full of surprises today, Mr. Salvatore," I reply coyly.

He gives me a sweet smile before getting up from the table and grabbing a guitar from one corner. He pulls a stool to the head of the table and sits down on it, adjusting the guitar on his lap.

"I want to personally thank you all for coming today and for helping me turn today into the best day of my life," he starts. I smile at him and then glance at each of the faces of our friends and family who have supported us. Bonnie, Jeremy, my parents, Ric, Jenna, Caroline, and a few people from the studio that Damon invited. All people we trust. All people we love. The only people with whom I'd want to share this day.

Sometimes I'm floored by how well Damon knows me. How he just gets me. At that thought, my eyes find their way back to Damon's. It's amazing to see him here like this. So happy, so loved, and so comfortable in his own skin. It's times like these that I can look back, without pain, at who Damon was because I know who he has become. He's reclaimed the part of himself that was lost as a result of Katherine and Stefan's betrayal. The part he almost lost again just last year. It's not been an easy road since that day, but it's been worth it. He still battles the demons and his insecurities, but he's no longer afraid to ask for help.

"I've always found it easiest to express myself through music and at a time like this, words just can't do what I feel justice. So I've turned to music," he continues, strumming absentmindedly on the guitar. The random chords start to form a pattern and soon progress into the beginnings of a melody.

Then I hear his voice and I melt right then and there. Everything around me disappears and it's only me, Damon, and the music he's making.

_"Dancin' in the dark_

_Middle of the night_

_Takin' your heart_

_And holdin' it tight_

_Emotional touch_

_Touchin' my skin_

_And askin' you to do_

_What you've been doin' all over again_

_Better than I was_

_More than I am_

_And all of this happened_

_By takin' your hand_

_And who I am now_

_Is who I wanted to be_

_And now that we're together_

_I'm stronger than ever_

_I'm happy and free_

_Oh, it's a beautiful thing_

_Don't think I can keep it all in, no_

_And if you asked me why I changed_

_All I gotta do is say your sweet name_

_It's your love_

_It just does somethin' to me_

_It sends a shock right through me_

_I can't get enough_

_And if you wonder_

_About the spell I'm under_

_It's your love_

_Oh, baby"_

When his voice breaks on the last chorus, the tears I've been holding back come streaming down my cheeks. I'm out of my seat with my arms around him before I realize what I'm doing.

"I love you," I whisper into his ear, as he sets down the guitar and slides his arms around my hips.

"I love you, too, baby," he replies with a smile and places a sweet kiss on my lips.

We chat with our guests as they slowly start to leave and soon enough it's just Damon and me alone in the barn.

"The night isn't over for you just yet," Damon says, his voice low, husky and full of promises in my ear.

I smile as everything inside me lights on fire. We walk out of the barn, hand in hand, toward the dark house. I love this house and I'm so happy that now it's mine too.

"Thank you for today, Damon," I tell him when we enter the house through the back door.

"You're welcome. You deserved every bit of it," he says softly.

I smile up at him in the dark, the lights from the backyard cast just enough light so I can see his face and his eyes shining with love.

"There's just one thing I want for myself," Damon continues.

I tilt my head in question. "What's that?"

"To dance with my wife for the first time," he answers, tugging me into his arms. I go willingly, wrapping my free arm around his shoulders, letting him pull me close and following his slow rhythm. It takes me back to the first dance we shared at the Opry Gala and the night we shared after. I smile at the memory; it's one of my favorites.

"I love you," he whispers against my shoulder.

"I love you, too," I reply.

I know that despite the perfection of this moment, our life together will be far from perfect. That we'll fight. We'll say things we don't mean. But we will always love each other and after what we've already been through, we can get through anything life throws at us.

I know there are millions of people speculating about our wedding and tomorrow the story will be plastered all over every tabloid and gossip blog, but I don't care. Because all I need is this moment. Damon and me together, _dancing in the dark_.

* * *

**What a journey this has been. Thank you to Jenn (elvishgrrl), Emma, and Layla Reyne for all you've done for me with this story. And to all of my wonderful Twitter friends, you know who you are, for your support and sweet words and encouragement.**

**And THANK YOU to every single one of you who has read, favorited, alerted, and reviewed this story. It's been astounding the amount of people who have read this. I never ever thought it would reach this amount of people. I'm still shocked. **

**The song is It's Your Love by Tim McGraw. **

**Follow me on Twitter for updates on future stories: rachellebelle08**

**Thank you again. You are all so amazing and I'd love to hear your final thoughts on this story.**


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